


Keep this going until Judgement Day

by Thorinsmut



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Aftercare, Communication is hard, Complete, Cuddling, Domesticity, Drug Mentions, Dysphoria, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Guns, Kissing, Main quest spoilers, Makeouts, Masturbation, Mentions of Violence, Nightmares, Nonbinary Character, Nudity, Other, PTSD, Relationship Negotiation, Revenge, Robot Sex, Strapons, Tobacco use, Trans Character, chosen family, fyi I am of the 'kill the institute with fire' camp, internalized heteronormativity and misogyny, mentions of transphobia, sex-triggered dysphoria, surgery talk, void it hard, void the warranty on your botfriend, what happens after Nick's personal quest is over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-12-08 05:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11639544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: Nick blew the plume of cigarette smoke away from Stell—as much as he could aim where it went, what with part of his cheek missing. "Now... I never said it was unrequited."After Nick and nb!Sole Survivor Stell put Eddie Winter down for good, they realize they've both been harboring a crush. But, with neither of them unscarred by life, and Stell hell-bent on hunting down the Institute, can they make a relationship work?





	1. introduction

Nick didn't know what he'd expected.

Eddie Winter was dead, a pre-war ghoul left to rot in the same vault he'd been stewing in since before the bombs fell. And Nick was a broken-down old synth with a head full of memories that weren't his own. He'd tied up that one last loose end, the last person who knew the human known as Nick Valentine, and it didn't change a damn thing.

He hunkered down by the spot where it happened. The street was all broken now—in the shadow of a collapsed interstate and a tattered billboard, busted concrete and a rusted corvega whose fusion core had long blown out—but he could still see the scene like it happened yesterday. Like Jenny was still lying there. The perils of a synthetic brain, maybe, that the memory never faded.

The sidewalk was empty and dusty—any blood that had been spilled there that day or in the hundreds of years since long worn away by time and radioactive weather.

Stell was quiet beside him as Nick described the scene.

Nick had avenged Jenny, finally, but it wasn't ever going to bring her back to him. Not that she would recognize him how he looked now. Nothing was ever going to make Nick into the human he'd been, make him anything but a machine pretending to be a man.

"You have a life here, Nick." Stell's voice was gentle as they hunkered down beside him, and Nick turned to face them. Not that there was much of a face to see. Stell was always covered up, thick welding goggles over their eyes and a red bandanna over their mouth and nose and only showing the faintest dusting of freckles along their cheeks. "You have your detective agency, helping so many people. Everyone knows you, all over the Commonwealth. You have friends. Ellie, Piper... me?"

"Best damn partner I ever had," Nick answered the faint question in Stell's tone. "Hell, if you were a synth we could keep this going until judgment day." Stell smiled, Nick had learned the tell of it in the movement of their cheeks, but he couldn't quite stand to see it. Not right now. "Though, I guess maybe we already missed it... heh." It was too flippant, light, and Nick stood to look over the broken Commonwealth, where people lived or died or made monsters of themselves.

Same as it was an hour before, only with one less monster buried under it.

"Taking Eddie out... That was a big deal." Stell stood, resting their hand on Nick's shoulder. They gave it a firm squeeze, and if Nick had a heart it would probably ache from the comfort of it. How many people would knowingly touch a synth?

"You can say that again," Nick answered. "And I'm... I'm at a loss." He leaned against Stell's hand, just a bit. Not so much Stell would have to acknowledge it. Stell's was a calloused hand now, nails chewed off short. A real wastelander's hand. They already covered their face, but they'd still been far too shiny the first time Nick met them. Their hands had been soft, their squared off nails showing the last vestiges of a manicure. They twitched at every unfamiliar noise, paranoid in an unfamiliar world, so Nick had wondered if they'd been at the jet until he found out they were fresh arrived from before the war. Now Stell's cute pixie cut had grown out, and their glossy black hair was shaved off on one side. They were calm and steady, trusting their armaments and armor against the now-known dangers this ravaged land could throw at them.

Stell trusted their equipment and trusted Nick to watch their back, just like Nick trusted them. His very own knight in shining armor, ever since the moment they busted through Vault 114 to rescue him with a sniper rifle and an honest-to-god sword.

"All I know is that, without you, Eddie'd still be at large," Nick confessed. "I'd hoped with that last hint of the old world snuffed out, I could be free. It's not that simple. Everything I am, that's Nicks. I had his memories, his fears, all that poor bastard's _hope_." And wasn't that the cruelest part, the god-damn hope he never could quite shake. That justice would prevail. That people would do the right thing. "Next thing I know, I'm in a trash heap. My family, my home, my entire life. Gone."

Stell made a soft sound, hand squeezing harder on his shoulder. Of anyone in the Commonwealth, Stell could understand the horror of that better than anyone. At least they knew that what they'd had, their memories, were _real_.

"And then I discover all those things, they weren't even mine." As often as Nick was glad that he couldn't tear up, there were as many times he wished he could. The catharsis of having a solid cry was for humans though, and he wasn't. "Being out here with you, what I've finally realized after all this time was that taking down Winter—it wasn't about Nick, or Jenny, or even you or me. It was about doing what's right, and that act of goodness, that's ours. All the good we've done, that's _ours_ and ours alone. And if that's the only thing in this world that I can ever claim as _mine_ , then I can die happy."

There were worse things he could claim as his own. Nick was just going to have to make his peace with that.

Stell pulled on Nick's shoulder, hard enough to turn him around, and wrapped both arms around him tight in a hug. It was unexpected enough to shock him into silence. His body still had the old Nick's reflex to return it. To pull Stell close. Stell matched him in height. He could feel the warmth of their body against his, the hot huff of their breath against the exposed wiring of his neck, even through their bandanna. It was pure animal instinct—though Nick wasn't an animal any more—to push his ruined face against Stell's neck in turn.

It wasn't exactly the smartest, to have both of their eyes closed at the same time, but Nick couldn't shake the _need_ for it any more than he could the need to help people.

"I'm not sure I'll ever be able to thank you for this," Nick finally managed.

"Shut up," Stell murmured back. "You're _family_. This is what family does."

Nick laughed, and it nearly felt normal. "Can't stop being noble, can you. What say we head out? We're not helping anyone standing around here." He patted Stell's back and stepped away, and they let him go. "That is, if you're still interested in traveling together. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted some time on your own after all this."

"You're one to talk. You've done more for me than I'll ever be able to match." Stell shook their head, not even acknowledging his offer of setting them free. "Your place or mine? I think we could both use some down time."

"If it's rest you're looking for, we'd better avoid Diamond City. Between Ellie and Piper..." Nick let himself trail off.

"Right." Stell nodded. Sharing Takahashi's noodles and cigarettes and telling the two women the stories they craved wasn't a hardship, but it did tend to delay the actual _resting_ part of getting home. Stell stretched, all long lean lines, arms high overhead and then falling behind their head. "I'm not really feeling running all the way to Sanctuary... and I guarantee we'd get roped into _something_ if we went to the any of the Minutemen settlements. So, Goodneighbor?"

"Ah, Goodneighbor, where nobody cares who you are or what you're up to." Nick nodded. "Sounds like just the place."


	2. Is there any machine you can't charm?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, you mind keeping an eye out for a sec?" Nick asked, tapping the side of his head. "Gotta run a diagnostic. My hearing must be on the fritz, could have sworn you just made a pass at me."

Nick felt _lighter_ by the time he and Stell reached Goodneighbor. It helped that they came across some settlers on the way. An older ghoul and her human daughter, pinned down by raiders. Stell, with their farsighted sniper's vision, evaluated the scene in an instant and tapped Nick's shoulder.

No words, no sound that would have given their position away; just a quick gesture with their thumb toward a nearby fire escape, and Nick braced himself in place to give Stell a leg up onto it. Pop, pop, pop. Three silenced shots in quick succession, and the raiders were down.

The settlers were understandably nervous of Stell and Nick at first. They expected to be treated no better than the raiders would have, than the settlement they'd been kicked out of when the old woman got caught out in a radiation storm and ghoulified. Stell smoothed that over quick just by being themself, making sure the settlers had food and ammo and stimpacks and directing them toward the nearest Minutement settlements where they could at least rest, even if they didn't want to stay. And all of it without asking or expecting any kind of compensation.

That's just the kind of person Stell _was_. The kind of person who saw a broken world, and was unrelentingly kind in the face of it. Nick flattered himself to think they were two of a kind, in that.

"Bless your heart... sir? Ma'am?" the old woman rasped, a glimmer of tears shining in her red eyes. "You're the first one who's treated us like _people_ , since."

"It's mx, actually." Stell scratched at the back of their neck awkwardly. "I'm neither a man or a woman. You take care of yourself, all right granny?" They touched the old woman's arm gently. "Go to any Minuteman settlement, they'll take you in. We'll all thrive if we stick together and all contribute, and _everyone_ can contribute something."

The younger woman's eyes were teary too as she wrapped her arms around her mother. "We will. Thank you."

They parted ways, the settlers toward Jamaica Plain and Nick and Stell toward Goodneighbor. Helping people, that's what Nick was sticking around to do, and that's what Stell was bound and determined to do here too. Even if Nick couldn't trust his own judgment with the Eddie Winter case, he trusted Stell's. They wouldn't have helped him if they found it repugnant.

The weight of that old case was off Nick's shoulders now. He'd done what he had to do, taken care of the last of the old Nick's skeletons. Maybe he really was free. He was in a great mood by the time they reached Goodneighbor.

Evening was setting in and Magnolia was performing down in the Third Rail, which meant the rest of the town was mostly empty. She always was a crowdpleaser, she'd known how to hold people's attention even when she was a little kid with scabby knees and a bad haircut. The Rexford being all but abandoned suited Nick just fine. He plopped himself on the couch and had a smoke—the old familiar motion—while Stell stripped out of their armor and went to beg Buddy for a drink.

They came back with a frosted over bottle. "Nuka Cherry, _ice cold_ ," they crooned, pressing it to their neck and shivering.

"And here I thought Buddy made beer?" Nick asked. That was certainly what the robot was popular for in Goodneighbor.

"Sure, but if you ask nice he'll chill any bottle that fits." Stell finished cuddling the bottle and cracked it open to take a sip with a mildly indecent moan.

Nick laughed, flicking his ash into the ashtray. "Is there any machine you can't charm?" he asked.

He could see Stell's smile this time, with their bandanna pushed up to drink. Shapely lips with a faint scar carving a divot in one side turned up just a bit. "Oh, there's _one_ that's giving me some trouble," Stell said, goggled eyes turning toward him as they set the bottle between their knees. "I'm hoping he'll finally make good on all that flirting, and make his move."

Nick blinked, fans whirring into higher gear as he processed. The crazy part was that he couldn't hear any joke in Stell's voice. He'd gotten damn good at reading them, even without being able to see their face, but he wasn't getting any hint of anything but solid honesty. He ground the stub of his cigarette out in the ashtray, rather than trying to get one last drag out of it.

"Hey, you mind keeping an eye out for a sec?" he asked, tapping the side of his head. "Gotta run a diagnostic. My hearing must be on the fritz, could have sworn you just made a pass at me."

Stell looked down at the bottle in their hands, away from Nick. "A simple 'no' will do, if that's what you want to say, Nick. I promise I won't like you any less."

Stell's narrow shoulders had tensed up, like a bird about to take flight. They teased back and forth with him a lot, but they didn't deserve sarcasm right now. As nonsensical as it was, they were serious about this.

"Where do I even start..." Nick reached for them on instinct, but pulled back his metal hand before he quite made contact. He patted his pockets for his cigarette pack instead, only to find that it was empty. Perfect. Just perfect. He picked at its peeling label, sharp-edged fingers shredding it. Anything but look at the person beside him. "Well, Preston's a good man."

"Yes, he is." Stell's tone was flat. That was probably not a good sign.

"And you know he thinks you hung the moon and stars," Nick stumbled on. "I've seen how the two of you are together..." They came to Diamond City to celebrate now and then, when they were heading back to Sanctuary from setting up yet another settlement for the Minutemen. Arms around each other's shoulders, and ordering a round of noodles for anyone in earshot. They laughed and prodded each other and teased as much as told the story of their latest exploits.

And Nick was happy for them, because Stell was a good person and Preston had probably the noblest heart the Commonwealth had ever produced. They were a good match.

"And Piper!" Nick continued. "Anyone with working eyes can see the way she looks at you." That was maybe less good of a match, but Stell and Piper were thick as thieves when they were trying to sleuth something out together.

Stell sighed, looking away toward the counter. Clair was reading a pre-war dime novel with her feet up behind the desk, the room empty otherwise except for Buddy bobbing back and forth in his corner. Stell shook their head and pulled their bandanna down around their neck, then shoved their welding goggles up. Their tan lines were altogether ridiculous, but the expression on their narrow face was utterly sober.

Nick had seen them a time or two without their trademark facial adornments, but usually just for a few seconds at a time. That they'd chosen to take them off now made the conversation suddenly a thousand times more serious. If Nick could sweat, he might be.

"Preston is a brother to me," Stell said. "And a whole lot less annoying than my real brothers are." They blinked, a wry twist to their lips as they corrected themself. " _Were_. I can't speak for Preston, but there are no romantic feelings on my part. Same with Piper, she's a good friend. So if where you're going with this is that you'd want me to cut off the affectionate relationships I have with other people..."

"No! No." Nick held his hands out, pausing Stell before more than a hint of anger could start steeling their voice. "I'm... look." He held his bare metal hand up in front of their face. "I'm a broken down old synth who crawled his way out of a trash heap and put on people clothes. I'm not exactly a catch. You've got better options."

Stell laced their fingers through his, palm to unforgiving metal. Nick couldn't pull away without risking injury to them. "You're Nick," they said, like that meant anything. Like it meant _everything_. Their gaze was disconcertingly direct, deep brown eyes fixed on his glowing orange ones without flinching. Stell was ageless and tireless behind their bandanna and goggles, but bare the stress lines and wrinkles showed on their face. The Commonwealth wasn't kind. "It's fine if you don't feel that way about me, but I do want you. The man you are, who's been beside me though the worst of the Commonwealth, I want _him_ , and even the body he's in."

Nick tried, very carefully, to extricate his hand, and Stell let him go. "Well that's..." he started, and then had to stop because he hadn't come up with the rest of the sentence yet. Sure a few people had made passes at him before, either from curiosity or misplaced gratitude. They'd all been easily dissuaded. None of them were as close to him as Stell was.

Stell smiled slightly and lifted their condensation-beaded bottle to take another drink, watching him from the corner of their eye. Those lips were so expressive, and maybe because no one ever got to see them Nick was driven to catalog their every quirk and variance of expression. He forced his gaze away, to his own hands, the stained pasty-gray one no more human than the stripped-down metal one. He'd made his peace with the fact that he wasn't human, and wasn't going to have any relationships beyond friendship.

The bluntest honesty might work here. "Sex is not in the cards for me. To be entirely crude, I don't have a dick." The Institute hadn't bothered to outfit him with one. Nick was about as grateful for that as he was disappointed. Having sex in a body as just plain _wrong_ as his wasn't his idea of a good time.

"Lots of people without dicks have sex." Stell's voice was dry as dust, and they were definitely laughing at him just a little. "Me, for example. Some of us even have very fulfilling sex that doesn't involve dicks at all. There's a lot more to it than 'insert tab A into slot B', if you're doing it right." Stell paused, then snorted and shook their head, dyed-black hair falling over one eye for just a moment before they flicked it away. "Look at me, keeping a dead man's secrets. I don't think he would have minded you knowing. My Nate was a trans man. A lot of my sexual experience is with a man whose body didn't come pre-equipped with that particular feature either. It's not going to throw me off."

"Well. Huh." Nick adjusted his hat. "Ain't that something." Stell might not be thrown off, but he sure was. Trust them to defy expectation at every turn. He was once again at a loss for words—not something that happened to him all that often.

There was silence for a moment, awkward. Stell broke it first. "Look, I'm sorry Nick." They rummaged in their backpack, searching for something in the salvage they'd picked up. "You're not saying 'no', but I'm not hearing a 'yes' either." They nudged his elbow with theirs, handing over an almost-new looking pack of cigarettes to replace the empty one he was still shredding. Stell smiled as he took it, or they _tried_ to. There was a tremble to the outer corner of their lips that belied the expression. "Consider the topic dropped. Sounds like something out of Grognak, doesn't it? Sole Survivor falls in love with the mechanical man." They put the back of their hand to their forehead, miming a swoon. Confessing that they loved him and poking fun at themself for it in the same breath, because they didn't think he wanted them, and the heart Nick didn't have any more twinged.

Stell rolled their eyes at themself and dug into their pack again for some razorgrain biscuits they'd stashed away, to go with the last of their soda. "Don't worry, I won't get weird about it," they assured Nick. "I'm good at the unrequited thing. You're still family, and one of the best friends I've ever had." Their smile was real this time.

Just like that. By the way, I love you and I'm happy being your best friend. At Stell's age, Nick knew he hadn't had that kind of grace. He'd needed most of a regular human lifespan to learn it.

He knew how much that cost, and they were _both_ paying it. Stell was just honest about it.

Nick turned the cigarette packet between his hands. It really was brand new, unopened. The writing was faded, some, but the box was in far better shape than most that had survived so long since the bomb. This particular one hadn't gotten damp or weatherbeaten through the long years, which meant it wouldn't be as stale. Which meant Stell had picked it up somewhere very well protected, which meant very dangerous.

They should have sold it. Cigarettes in this good of shape would make a decent amount of caps, but instead, without a second thought, Stell had given it to the synth who couldn't even get a nicotine buzz. It was like Stell didn't even know _how_ to be selfish. Some ascribed it to Stell being naive, from another time and an unbroken world, but Nick knew far too well that selfishness was universal even then. Just one look at what they'd done to the world, and you could see that.

It was a choice, one made over and over again.

Stell chose to be selfless, and honest. And Nick, well, he had to make a choice of his own, didn't he? He opened the cigarette pack, and lit one up. He might not be able to get a buzz, or have lungs to inhale the smoke into, but he could taste. The original Nick would have sneered at the stale smoke, but it was better than any Nick had gotten a hold of in years.

Nick blew the plume of smoke away from Stell—as much as he _could_ aim where it went, what with part of his cheek missing. "Now... I never said it was unrequited."

Stell inhaled sharply, but apparently some biscuit crumbs went down along with the air. They broke into a coughing fit. Nick reached across to pound them on the back with the hand that wasn't bare metal bones. Stell took a long swig of their soda to wash the crumbs down, once they could breathe well enough to do so, and made a 'go on' gesture at Nick with their eyes still red and watering and face flushed, but their attention fully on him and nothing else.

"You know, I don't take up with just anyone," Nick continued. "But none of my old partners have ever had my back the way you do. In it for the money or the glory, I suppose. None of them I could trust with something like the Winter case." Nick paused; hoping, maybe, that Stell would jump in and he wouldn't have to say any more. No such luck. Stell just watched him and took another bite of biscuit, like having dropped the topic included a vow of silence on the matter.

"What I'm saying is, you're one of a kind," Nick said. "And I'm... well, I've gotten used to what I _want_ not making much of a difference."

"It matters," Stell added softly when Nick paused again, not sure what else to say. "Nick, _I_ care what you want."

Nick took a slow drag on his cigarette, giving himself time to think. "I'm not used to thinking I could have..." he gestured with the cigarette, but Stell's quirked eyebrow suggested that it wasn't as eloquent as he'd hoped. Words it would have to be. Relationship talks never got easier, even after all this time. He might not have hormones anymore, but damn if it didn't make Nick feel like an adolescent. "...intimacy," Nick finally finished the sentence. "I'm not sure I can. Even if you're attracted to the body I'm in, I'm not. I've been in this one longer than I ever was my human body, but it still feels... wrong." He shifted his shoulders, feeling the familiar discomfort. He knew better than to focus too much on it, anymore. There was always work to pay attention to instead. "Doesn't fit right."

"Dysphoria." Stell's face softened in understanding. "That's what we would have called it, in our time. When your body isn't like you feel it should be. I... yeah, of course you would have dysphoria."

There was a word for it? Nick shook his head, a smile on his lips. "Will wonders never cease," he drawled. So it was a human experience too, and not just a symptom of being a synth.

"I had that some," Stell tucked the empty bag that had held their biscuits back into their pack, saving every last thing in case it could be reused or repurposed. They leaning forward with their elbows on their knees, focused on Nick. "Better since I got—" they gestured briefly to their chest, flatter now than it had been when Nick first met them. "Nate too, sometimes. It's something you can find workarounds for. Or we don't have to, if you'd rather try for something queerplatonic. Whatever you're comfortable with, that's what I want with you."

"I'm not sure what I want," Nick admitted. "But I do want you."

Stell smiled, eyes sparkling and deep wrinkles bracketing their mouth. Nick didn't have a heart to flip over, but it sure felt like that. He wanted to be the cause of that smile far more often. Stell drained the last drops of their soda and tucked the empty bottle away, then closed their pack up tight before turning back to Nick.

"How do you feel about cuddling?"

Nick ground out the stub of his cigarette, and pocketed the rest of the pack for later. "It doesn't sound half bad."

"Come here!" Stell leaned back against their armrest of the couch, squirming one of their legs behind Nick's back. They held their arms out to Nick. It wasn't how he'd imagined it, but it was easy for Nick to turn his back to Stell and lay back against their front. Stell wrapped him up close in a hug and sighed out a happy hum.

It felt... good. It was such an intensely _human_ feeling, to rise and fall with someone else's breath, feel their heart and body heat. Almost like he had them himself. It might be one of the better things his synth body was capable of feeling, and all because Stell had thought to offer it.

Over at the counter, Clair glanced at them over her book. She shook her head and turned the page, cultivating her tough and careless image, but there was a smile on the corners of her eyes. The news of Nick Valentine cuddling with Stell the vaulter would be all over Goodneighbor by morning Nick was sure, and all over the Commonwealth by the end of the week, but he couldn't much care.

"You know, the original Nick tended to be the big spoon," Nick commented.

"Yeah?" Stell asked. Their breath smelled like cherry, sweet as candy. Their lips very nearly brushed his ear, close enough to send a faint shiver down his back. "How does the current Nick feel about being the little spoon?"

"You know, I think he could get used to it," Nick decided. "Just let me know if you start getting uncomfortable. I've got some sharp corners."

"I will," Stell promised, gently patting his hollow chest and settling in like they never wanted to move from this couch. "I will."


	3. back in our day...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know," Nick drawled, "back in our day, I'd have been clapping our friend Fred in irons."
> 
> It worked. Stell let out their breath in a huff, shaking their head. "Two hundred years after the apocalypse, everything mutated all to hell, supermutants and ghouls and roving gangs, and it's the _chem dealers_ that freak me out. How ridiculous is that?"

Of course, cuddling semi-privately couldn't last forever—especially if you were attempting it in the foyer of the busiest hotel in the Commonwealth. Fred Allen came in with a handful of drifters he'd rounded up to sell chems to. Nick and Stell heard the group before they came in the door, and Stell let him go to cover their face with their goggles and bandanna again. Nick sat up and moved a little bit away from Stell, and they let him without a word. Just scooted their leg out from behind him and crossed their feet in his lap instead.

That wasn't really less intimate. It was so casual. Stell was just so _comfortable_ touching him, and Nick had gotten used to people avoiding it if they possibly could. When Nick rested his stripped-down metal right hand on their ankle, Stell didn't react with anything but relaxing further. Their cheeks rounded in a smile behind their bandanna.

"Whoa, you look so _cozy._ " Fred had finished his business and swayed toward them. "You haven't been cheating on me, have you Stell? You know I'll always give you the best deal on the best chems. Better than... _anyone_ in the Commonwealth."

"Not high, just tired," Stell stretched and let their arm casually fall over their pack. Protecting it. Fred didn't seem to notice.

"Hey, if you want to change that, I'm your man. We all need something after a long day, right? You've earned it! Got some med-x? Feel no pain," Fred cajoled. "Or this latest batch of daytripper is just..." He paused, seemingly unable to come up with a good word for it. He settled on an 'ok' gesture and a heartfelt sigh. "So smooth."

"Maybe another time." Stell's tone kept it light, the kind of 'soft no' they were so good at, turning Fred down without ruffling his feathers. They were so good at staying on good terms with everyone, but Nick knew them well enough to hear their irritation and see the tension in their shoulders. Stell rolled to their feet, a smooth athletic motion that brought their pack up with them. "Oof, I should head to bed before I fall asleep on the couch. Clair, you got a bucket of wash water for me?"

"Five caps. You carry it to your room yourself. Don't spill it on the floor!" Clair recited her familiar litany, and then hollered for a bucket from one of her workers when Stell passed the caps over.

"All right, yeah. Another time," Fred agreed cluelessly. "I'm always here!"

Stell gave him a sharp dismissive nod, and thanked the hotel worker with a couple extra caps tip as they accepted the bucket. The Rexford might not have regular plumbing anymore, but at some point someone had rigged up a solar tank on the roof with a line down to the ground floor. After a sunny day, they could offer warm wash water, which was more than a lot of places could these days. Stell had enough to carry, with their heavy pack, so Nick took the other side of the bucket handle to share the weight.

Stell was very quiet, still tense, as they made their way up the stairs. That wouldn't do at all.

"You know," Nick drawled, "back in our day, I'd have been clapping our friend Fred in irons."

It worked. Stell let out their breath in a huff, shaking their head. "Two hundred years after the apocalypse, everything mutated all to hell, supermutants and ghouls and roving gangs, and it's the _chem dealers_ that freak me out. How ridiculous is that?"

"Well, I'd bet a bucket of caps it wasn't _supermutants_ you were warned about, growing up." Nick pointed out. "All those after-school specials..."

"And the assemblies!" Stell groaned. "They'd bring a local cop in to tell you that you'd die in an alley if you so much as popped half a mentat for a test.... My friends and I made so much fun of them, but I guess it got stuck in my head anyway. You ever do those? Try and scare the school-kiddies straight?"

"That wasn't really my department." Nick shook his head. "Organized crime was my beat. Felt sorry for the poor bastards who had to do the school presentations. But then, they probably felt sorry for me."

"Takes all kinds," Stell agreed, with a soft laugh as they glanced around as if to indicate the entire Commonwealth and all its strange diversity, so different from the world the two of them had come from. "How about you?" they asked. "You seem pretty comfortable, even around the chem dealers."

"Took me a while to get used to the way things are now," Nick admitted. "But even before the war... the original Nick saw enough to realize the whole war on chems was a waste. You take down one kingpin, and half a dozen more spring up in his place. If anything, things get _more_ dangerous. Hell, most of the people selling were just trying to get by, same as everyone else. Most of the people using were perfectly normal citizens who wouldn't hurt a fly. Now chems are legal, or not _illegal_ , and nothing much has changed."

"Huh," Stell pondered that as they opened the door to their rented room. "I guess that's one way to look at it."

Stell gave the bucket a little tug, and Nick let it go so they could set it down by the stool in the corner. They dug into their pack, coming up with a torn piece of either a sheet or a tablecloth—hard to tell which it had originally been—and a handful of tacks.

"Hang this over the hole in the wall?" they requested. That was an easy task, made somewhat harder by the dry flaky old plasterboard, and the number of pinholes already in it from others putting up a privacy curtain.

By the time Nick was done, Stell had gotten out a sliver of soap and two well-worn washcloths. "Want first dibs on the water?" they offered, handing one of the washcloths toward him.

"Don't mind if I do." Nick might not sweat or secrete skin oils anymore, but he did collect dust and the occasional bit of blood if he got into combat too close for his liking. It was nice of Stell to realize.

The warm water in the bucket wasn't drinking quality, the faint rust-color gave it away, but it didn't make Nick's Geiger counter tick more than the regular background of the Commonwealth did so it was moderately clean. Not that radiation was a problem for him. It didn't take Nick long to wipe down his hand and face, cleaning the grit and grime out of his seams.

When he was done, Stell had off their hat, bandanna, and goggles, and was getting out of their pipboy in preparation of taking their shirt off.

Nick draped his washcloth carefully over the edge of the bucket. "Thanks for that. I'll... uh... get out of your hair."

"If that's what you'd be most comfortable with," Stell said, with a smile toward him. "But I don't mind the company."

Well, that was new. "You sure?" Nick asked. He wasn't. It seemed like things were suddenly moving very quickly, now that he'd admitted that he did want Stell.

"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't." Stell placed their pipboy neatly on the bed beside their hat and started unbuttoning their shirt. "There's nothing of mine I'd mind you seeing, and I trust you can look away from anything you don't want to see. I've got a fresh oil can, if you wanted to do some maintenance at the same time. Or I've got a couple games for the pip-boy?"

Put like that, it sounded like sharing a locker room and nothing to freak out over. "The metal hand has been giving me some problems," Nick admitted. The lack of a protective covering meant the little joints needed cleaning much more often.

"Side pocket," Stell said, crooking their thumb at their pack, and Nick stepped aside to let them get at the water. The oil can in Stell's pack had seen better days, but the oil inside seemed relatively clean. Nick always carried a screwdriver and a cleaning cloth. He sat on one of the couches and got to work.

"So, that word you used earlier," he asked. "Queerplatonic. Can't say I'm familiar." He probably wouldn't have remembered how to pronounce the word at all if it weren't for his synthetic memory. As it was, it came out in something much more like Stell's accent than his own.

Stell settled onto the stool in nothing but their boxers, and groaned in appreciation as they pressed the wet washcloth into their face. "I'm not surprised. A queerplatonic relationship is like..." they pondered, searching for words as they started wiping their face and neck down. Their human body was more fragile than Nick's robotic one. They had bruising here and there—nothing too worrying—a spray of silvery stretch marks on their slightly saggy belly and thighs, and some scars. The most prominent of which were the twin anchor scars across their chest. Those were red—healed, but only freshly.

"It's like the closeness of a romantic relationship, without the expectation of a sexual one?" Stell finally continued. They rinsed the rag out. "Or it can be like a close friendship, with all the support and commitment you'd expect from a marriage. Platonic, but not _less_ than a sexual relationship. Does any of that make sense?"

"I'll, uh, have to think about it," Nick admitted. It sounded like an oxymoron, but then 'synthetic person' would have sounded like one to the original Nick. There might be some value to it, once he wrapped his mind around it.

Stell grimaced a bit as they cleaned their scarred chest. Discomfort, most likely, and Nick turned his gaze quickly back down to his hand before he could be caught staring. "How are those healing up?" he asked. He'd never seen the scars before. He'd been around when Stell got it done, given them a bit of a hand while they were healing and couldn't much lift their arms, but he'd never actually seen the results of the surgery.

"Pretty well, Dr. Sun does good work." Stell poked at their chest in Nick's peripheral vision and shrugged. "Most of my chest is still numb. Sometimes I get twinges, which is probably the nerves healing? The scars would have come out smaller if I had the luxury of more rest." They lathered up the sliver of soap and began giving their upper body a second pass. Their voice was quieter when they continued. "I'm too glad I finally got it done to care about how pretty it looks. In our time... well it was close enough to impossible. Now, I traded a sack of _bottlecaps_ for it, of all things. Nate was lucky, he could get his stuff covered by our insurance. But for someone nonbinary? Hell no. Not to mention the risk of..."

Stell froze, and their laugh was sharp and ugly enough to make Nick look at them dead-on again. Stell bit their lip, shaking their head. "The risk of having any kids we had taken away. Fuck." They wrung the washcloth out more violently than necessary. "Family services didn't look kindly on the queer. We were at risk enough with Nate being binary trans. Everyone was just waiting for us to mess up and be anything but the perfect het couple. I was so _fucking terrified_. All those years of hiding who I was, passing for a woman, with a smile pasted on my face when all I wanted was to claw my own skin off; and for _what_? First the bombs, and then the Institute..."

They shoved their face into the washcloth and screamed into it, helpless frustration and anger.. "Stell..." Nick started, and then stopped. What was there he could say? They were already doing what they could to find the Institute and Sean. Even if they discovered the Institute—against all odds—it wouldn't take back the bombs or the fact that Stell's baby had been stolen away in the first place.

Stell dragged the washcloth down their face. "One day at a time," they reminded themself. "Just... one day at a time. Sorry."

"Hey, from where I'm sitting, you've more than earned some rage," Nick assured them. Stell tried to smile, but their face was a little too tight for it to come out right. They continued their sponge bath, and Nick turned his attention back to his hand. There were a lot of fiddly little joints, and they all needed to be seen to. A biological human hand was at least as complicated, but it certainly wasn't something the old Nick had had to consciously think about.

The room was quiet for a few minutes, while Stell completed their wash and Nick fiddled. Eventually, Nick broke the silence. "So I've been wondering. How _did_ you and Nate have a baby if you were both..."

"Both born with uteruses?" Stell didn't pretend not to know what Nick meant when he let himself trail off, a small blessing. "Sperm donor, and one of Nate's eggs. He got some frozen, before he transitioned. So a sperm donor, Nate's egg, my uterus. We were going to... when Sean was a few years old, we were going to use the same donor and one of mine to give Sean a little sib. We had it all planned out. It was... symmetrical, I guess."

"I'm sorry you didn't get the chance." Nick couldn't quite picture it. Sure, he could picture your typical family of four in their little slice of suburban heaven, but that didn't quite fit with the Stell he knew. They cared about people, maybe _too_ much, but they just didn't seem parental. Maybe they were harder now than they had been—the Commonwealth had a way of doing that to a person.

"We should have known better." Stell shucked off their boxers to finish their wipe-down, and Nick turned his back to them. That was not something he was ready to see. Stell ignored it. "Nate and I were both soldiers... we should have known better than to start a family. There was a war on, but we were sure it wasn't going to get that bad. All bluster and posturing, and then it blows over. Everyone's too smart to kick off a global nuclear apocalypse, right?"

"Never underestimate the pettiness of man." Nick flexed his metal hand, checking that it was in as good working order as he could get it, and got to work putting the oil and such away. "Who do you think actually won the war? Nobody, I guess."

"Mutually assured destruction was supposed to _prevent_ war." The floorboards creaked, and there was some rustling of fabric. "That clearly worked out great." Stell's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "There. I'm dressed." They had on a worn-thin minuteman shirt and some fresh boxers, when Nick turned around, and were dunking their dirty clothes in the wash water to rinse them too. Just a quick scrub of their pits and crotch to keep any smells from building up, so it wouldn't take long.

"You couldn't have known." Nick reached for his cigarettes, but stopped himself. Stell didn't like to sleep in a smokey space. "We were all living like the world would never end, up until the minute the bombs fell." Not that he could remember those last few weeks, himself.

"If we hadn't decided to have Sean, I wouldn't be alive now." Stell shook their head, hair falling over their eyes. "If it hadn't been for parental leave, Nate and I wouldn't have been home in Sanctuary—right next to the vault. We'd have been on the front lines, dying. Or going ghoul. Thing is, I can't decide if it's better this way or not."

"I can't make that judgment for you," Nick drawled. "I just know I'm damn lucky you're at my side—and there's a lot of people in the Commonwealth who're glad you're here. This place _needs_ more people with your kind of heart, now more than ever."

Stell smiled, absolutely heartstopping again, and wrung their clothes out. Nick took the bucket down to empty it and get a cap refunded for returning the bucket in good condition. Stell had their wet clothes draped over a few chairs to dry, and a cloth spread out on a couch to protect it while they cleaned and maintained their guns. Nick's own piece might could use that too, and Stell gestured him to the opposite end of the couch with a quick turn of their chin. Like of _course_ they'd been planning on sharing their gun-cleaning tools.

Even after so long of traveling with them, that generosity still caught Nick by surprise. Having just realized it anew, it did not surprise him a bit when they waved off the refund cap. He popped it in his pocket and took out his trusty old .44 to tend to it along with Stell.

He liked how Stell got when they were working on their guns. Nick saw it more when they visited Sanctuary together and Stell had their whole workshop at their fingertips, but any type of gun maintenance calmed them. The tension in their shoulders eased, and they breathed slow and meditative.

"I was worried, at first," Stell opened, out of the blue. "The trans stuff... especially when I found out you'd been a cop in our time. It wasn't exactly a love story between our two communities, back then. But you've always been completely supportive."

There was a question in there, though Stell didn't quite voice it. Nick decided to answer anyway. "There's nothing quite like waking up in a body like a mannequin to help you realize your gender's in your head, not your pants." That was the glib answer, and Stell did huff out nearly a laugh. There was sympathy in their eyes when they glanced up at him, though. They got it, more than most folks did. They shared the experience of 'dysphoria', thought there was nothing Nick could do to ameliorate his.

"I'll admit I wasn't always so... good," Nick continued. "The old Nick... he did some things I regret. Never really thought about it at the time. I've had a long time since to figure out it was wrong. The detective business sets you up to see a lot of humanity. You get hired to find someone's missing 'son', and instead you track down a girl who begs to be left lost like she's begging for her life." Nick was eternally glad he'd listened to Magnolia; let her grow into her own life and lied to the father who couldn't see her for who she was. "Or the boys who OD on tainted buffout trying to get their bodies to grow into men. Good people who joined raider gangs because they were _that desperate_ to get the caps for a new face and a new life." Nick couldn't share names, that would be breaking trust, but Stell was far from the only trans person in the Commonwealth.

Stell sighed heavily. "That much hasn't changed, I guess."

Well, shit. That wasn't the response Nick had been going for. He wasn't trying to make Stell feel worse! "There are also good stories," Nick amended quickly. "Families and communities who band together to scrape together the caps for someone's transition. Couples who stick together, help each other through. Parents who support their kids in their choices. All that still happens, too!"

"Thanks, Nick." Stell's expression softened, glancing up at him. "That is good to know."

"We all help how we can," Nick said. "You more than most. Knowing _you're_ the general of the Minutemen, and that tolerance and acceptance is the law in all those settlements—well, it means a lot to a lot of people. Not just synths or ghouls: _anyone_ who's been pushed to the fringes. For a long time, Goodneighbor was the only place like that and it's... ah... not exactly savory."

Stell blushed, and Nick would never have known it if they still had their goggles and bandanna on. As it was, the red only showed in their paler lower cheeks and the thin line from the strap of their goggles. "Gandhi, 'be the change you want to see in the world'," they quoted, then lifted and cocked the nasty double-barrel shotgun they used when things got hairy, just to belie the words of the famous pacifist on their tongue.

Nick couldn't help laughing, and Stell was laughing with him even if theirs didn't quite come out aloud. They set the shotgun aside, and moved on to the next gun—a silenced 10mm for stealth work. A gun for every occasion, Stell, even if they preferred sniping from a safe distance.

"I think what I wanted to get at is... I mean, it's one thing to be supportive of other trans people." Stell gestured vaguely, toward the folk they didn't really know of out in the Commonwealth. Despite all they'd done, they really hadn't been here very long, yet. "It's kind of another to... to be in a relationship with one?" Stell took a deep breath and pushed on before Nick could answer. "I know you had your girl, Jenny, and I'm _not_ one. I can't ever go back to pretending. Never again."

"I wouldn't want you to," Nick promised. He reached for his cigarettes, and had one halfway out of the box before he remembered he wasn't smoking in the room and shoved it back where it belonged. His coolant pumps picked up, his current version of a racing heart, as words he'd almost never said crowded up behind his synthetic teeth. "I'm... the original Nick was bi. Too chickenshit to do anything about it, mind, but he was."

"Yeah?" Stell prompted, a faint smile twitching the corner of their expressive lips. They really didn't like to make things easy on him. "And what about the current Nick?"

"He's a sappy old synth." Why did talking about himself in the third person help? Nick wasn't sure, but it was, so he was sticking with it. "Gender doesn't seem to make much of a difference to his synthetic heart."

"Glad to hear it." Stell set the 10mm aside, and got to work on their sniper rifle—working on their favorite gun only now they were in the groove, calm and confident. "I want you to want me, but I don't want anyone to want me as a woman. That's... that's all most people who've wanted to be with me could see."

"I've only ever known you as this." Nick gestured to all of Stell, a bit helplessly, as he tried to find the right words. "You've always been Mx Stell. Not a woman, or a man; just a good person and a great partner." They'd corrected him right sharp the first time he called them 'doll', and he hadn't made the mistake again. His entire concept of them fit with who they were now; he found it jarring when someone referred to them as either 'he' or 'she'. "I'm not looking for a white picket fence and a dog, here," Nick continued. "I wasn't expecting a wife out of this relationship, if that's what you're worried about? I don't exactly know what's on offer, but I didn't want that from you."

"Partners," Stell said, answering the question he hadn't quite articulated. "In the detective agency, in the Commonwealth, in life. That's what I can offer."

"Someone to face the monsters beside." Nick's vocal processors seized, lump in his throat, when Stell turned their deep brown eyes up to him like they were seeing something wonderful. Sure, people sometimes looked at Nick that way when he'd pulled off a rescue, but that was just relief and adrenaline. They didn't know him, not the way Stell did.

Nick reached out, with his left hand, and Stell easily let go of their little cleaning brush to hold his hand instead. Faint pressure and warmth, connection offered to him.

"Yeah, for both of us," Stell said, quietly. "...would you be all right with kissing, too?"

"Not sure how much kissing plastic will do for you," Nick said, self-depreciating humor the words that came easiest. "But I'm game to try."

It was no silver-screen romance kiss, instant fire and passion. It wasn't a quick peck either. Stell leaned in, over the space between them on the couch, a little hesitantly, until Nick leaned in to meet them. They reached up, calloused fingertips touching his cheek softly, and then moving back to come to rest at the nape of his neck. They paused, for just an instant with their breath warm against his face, and then their lashes fell over their eyes and they pressed forward that last tiny bit to kiss him.

Nick's sensors cataloged the softness and temperature of their lips, the faint moisture, the minute motions they made against him—but the part of him that was the human Nick's distilled it into the experience of a kiss. And that part of him could remember how to kiss back, as long as it had been. There was little depth to the kiss, it was sweet and exploratory, little sucking kisses with just their lips moving in soft harmony. Then the slick softness of Stell's tongue caressed Nick's bottom lip in a devilishly clever swipe and the fingers at the back of his neck began rubbing up and down, and his whole body shuddered in a reaction he hadn't even thought he _had_ anymore.

Stell answered the surprised groan that came unbidden from Nick's throat with a soft sigh and one final peck before setting him loose. Their eyes were sparkling. "Good?" they asked.

"Good would be an understatement." Nick's bare metal fingertips touched his lips, chasing after the sensation. "And you, darl?" The endearment slipped out, Nick hadn't meant to say it, but hearing it out in the air he didn't want to take it back.

"Yeah." Stell let their gaze practically _caress_ Nick before they returned their attention to the sniper rifle that sat between them. "I might have you brush your teeth before next time, though. You kind of taste like cigarettes."

Nick should have realized he would. Cigarette smoke was about the only thing he ingested, these days. "I can do that," he promised. If kissing was going to be happening, he needed to get back to a more regular brushing schedule. "The old Nick used to chew gum to keep his breath fresh. I only tried that once in this body. Not a mess I'm eager to face again, let me tell you. I was scraping bits out of my mouth for a week."

Stell chuckled. "I can just picture." They carefully cleaned the scope on the rifle, making sure there was no speck on it to mess up their shots. Nick always liked to watch their hands at work, the precision and delicacy of their movement. Like a conductor at an orchestra. He'd told them as much on more than on occasion, and only now did he realize they'd taken it as flirting.

Maybe he _had_ meant it as flirting, deep down, but not let himself believe that his interest could be returned. It was, though, and that left the problem of physical incompatibility. "So, we can kiss..." Nick opened. "I'm not sure what else we _could_ do, physically speaking. My options are limited."

"We'll find a way," Stell glanced up at him, with a faint smile. "If that's what we both want, we'll figure it out. You might not have the anatomy you're used to relying on, but that won't stop us. You know what the biggest sexual organ is, right?"

"Our friend Strong's, probably."

"Ha!" Stell barked a surprised laugh. "Nooo, it can't be? I always figured supermutants would be like the old world cis guy gym rats who used too much buffout? Big muscles, tiny—"

"—brain," Nick cut them off. Stell snorted, and did not correct him. There was a moment of uncomfortably contemplative silence before Nick spoke again. "I may be a detective, but some things are better left unknown."

Stell saluted him with the bottle brush they were holding. "I'll agree to that. I don't know, and I don't want to. But to go back to the topic, the biggest sexual organ isn't in _anyone's_ pants." They reached over and tapped Nick in the center of the forehead. "It's the brain, and I know you've got one of those."

Well that seemed to contradict Nick's entire sexual experience. It had always been simple and instinctive, back when he had the body parts for it. His body had _wanted_ , and with an enthusiastic gal and a rubber for safety, it could be wonderful.

Maybe Stell did know more than he did. He didn't know the first thing to do in a dysphoric body, and they did. Sure there was watching porn, or reading erotica, which was mental stimulation that could definitely get the old engine running, but that only went so far. Dr. Amari had some programs in the memory pods that could simulate sexual pleasure. Nick had taken advantage of that a time or two, long years ago, but he had a feeling that wasn't what Stell meant either. It would be another sort of adventure, then, following Stell into uncertainty and possible danger, but Nick found himself as eager for that as he was traveling through the Commonwealth with them.

"I'll trust you on that," Nick finally answered. He did trust them, completely, and they'd never betrayed that trust for an instant.

Stell checked the catch-and-release mechanism of the sniper rifle's magazine twice, then nodded to themself and set it aside. All their little tools were gathered up, neatly lined up and wrapped in the cloth for safekeeping. Military neatness, or just the habit of the wasteland wanderer they were now, Nick didn't know. They tucked the roll into their pack, then stretched and yawned. "We'll try it out, some time," they said. "Not tonight. I'm sleepy."

"Take all the rest you need," Nick urged. "I've got some files to peruse while you sleep. The lamp in the corner won't bother you?" He always asked, though they always told him it didn't.

"You're fine," Stell promised. "I always sleep best knowing you're on watch." Their tone, along with the warmth in their expression, made Nick glad he couldn't blush. He stood and held up the brand-new pack of cigarettes they'd given him. Stell nodded their understanding and dug their toothbrush and a water bottle out of their pack as Nick headed out for an evening smoke—just simple and easy domesticity, the familiarity of having traveled so far together.

Nick might not be sure, exactly, how things were going to work out between them, but he closed the door behind himself with more hope in his synthetic heart than he'd had since he woke up in his current incarnation. Stell had a way of making anything seem possible, whether it was the promise of the Minutemen in the Commonwealth or the hope of love for an old synth. They were far more than the Commonwealth deserved, but the best heroes always were.

Nick laughed at himself for the sappiness of the thought. You'd think being saddled with a name like 'valentine' would have inured him to flights of romantic fantasy.

He leaned against the wall just outside Stell's door, keeping watch for them as the cherry ember slowly ate his cigarette away.


	4. in the night

Nick liked the nighttime.

He'd been a bit of a night-owl even when he was human and tethered to a circadian rhythm, but now that he never needed sleep he enjoyed it even more. There was something a bit magical about those hours when the world went quiet. In Diamond City it happened earlier than in Goodneighbor, but even in Goodneighbor there was a time somewhere on the far side of two AM when the last of the singing drunks and arguing drifters had found someplace to sleep their sorrows away.

The Rexford was a very old building. It creaked and groaned as it settled into the nighttime temperature. A cool breeze blew through the half-boarded window, ruffling Nick's papers. Stell made little sleeping sighs and groans—dead to the world. That was trust, to fall so deeply asleep in the room with someone else.

They hadn't, at first. They'd slept lightly, fully armed and armored, and jolted awake at the slightest unexpected sound. The first time Stell really _slept_ in Nick's presence was after a real miserable three days, where after clearing out a raider nest that was bigger than anticipated, they'd run into a radiation storm, and then a hunting pack of supermutants when they were searching for shelter. Stell had stolen naps, a few hours here and there, but was clearly flagging by the time they found safety in the vault of an old bank. Stell, normally far faster than Nick at hacking terminals, had been cross-eyed with fatigue, so it was Nick who'd broken into the system to get the vault open.

Stell set out a handful of mines, and was setting themself up to sleep sitting up watching the door, when Nick stopped them. "I've got the watch," he'd promised. "I'm not the one who benefits from a good night's sleep."

Stell had looked up at him for a long moment, unreadable behind their bandanna and goggles, then handed over a battered case with extra bullets for his gun and practically collapsed into their bedroll.

Nick was familiar with their sleeping breaths, now. He knew the faint snores when they had been far too tired, the huffs when they were sore and moved in ways that hurt-but-not-enough-to-wake-up. He knew the kind of sounds they made when they were vividly dreaming. He knew how their breaths changed when they were on their way to waking up. Stell's sounds were a familiar soundtrack, as soothing in their own way as the chirping of crickets out in the dark, so Nick noticed immediately when they started breathing like a sniper—which was to say, nearly stopped breathing altogether.

He carefully closed the case file he was looking through, he already had a few ideas where to look for a lead, and rubbed at his temple as he glanced toward the sleeping lump of Stell on the bed. They didn't do this so often, but far more often than Nick would like. Sometimes their breathing would go back to normal without them waking at all, but that was the exception rather than the rule.

Stell's body had gone stiff and tense beneath their thin blanket. They inhaled in quick, near-silent puffs, and exhaled so long and slow the lungs Nick didn't have anymore ached in sympathy. They twitched slightly, absorbing the recoil of the rifle they were firing, over and over again, but in the way of dreams, no matter how many they took down, there was always more. Stell twitched harder, faster, breath picking up into full panicked gasps how they never did in a real battle. They always kept their head, targeted enemy weaknesses, and got themself and anyone traveling with them out safe and sound.

Nightmares didn't play fair.

Stell exploded out of bed, flailing wildly but with enough training to make their knees and elbows absolutely deadly to anyone who got too close.

"At ease, Soldier!" Nick barked, in a fair imitation of a drill sergeant.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Stell snapped to parade rest, entire body as tight as a spring. The old army instincts had been drilled too deep into Stell's mind for even the strongest dream to hold through it. It never failed to get them awake enough to hear what else Nick had to say. His tone was far softer when he continued. "You're safe, Stell. The year is 2287. We're in Goodneighbor, in the Hotel Rexford, in the ruins of Boston. You're safe. I'm Nick Valentine, your partner, and I'm on watch."

Stell gasped in a broken breath, and then a second, before they turned their covered face toward Nick. Their hands dropped to their sides, and only then did they start shaking.

Nick kept up a comforting patter, a quiet recitation of facts, and stood to go to them when Stell dropped onto the bed like a puppet with its strings cut—long limbs all awkward angles. Stell slumped into him when Nick sat beside them. He wrapped an arm around their narrow shoulders, and held them close.

"I'm here," Nick murmured to Stell. "I'm here with you. I've got you." This wasn't an unfamiliar dance, for the two of them. Nick wanted to be there for Stell, just as much as they wanted him to be. He had taken it as a gift when they told him what to do for them if they happened to have a nightmare.

But that was much more intimacy than the relationship of 'friends' Nick had convinced himself they had, wasn't it?

"Thanks, Nick." Stell nuzzled their bandanna-covered face against his cheek, and pushed away to lie down and wrap up in their blanket. That wasn't new, either. It was animal comfort-seeking; Nick had convinced himself they would do the same with anyone they were in physical proximity to after a nightmare.

Queerplatonic was a friendship with far more closeness and support, on both sides, like a marriage without the expectation of sex. If Nick was looking at himself and Stell honestly, if he wasn't trying to explain anything away, it wasn't such an oxymoron after all. It was... well, it was downright _obvious._

Nick stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, while Stell arranged the thin, lumpy pillow to their liking. He and Stell were together, now, new as that was. It wasn't presuming too much for Nick to rub Stell's still-tight shoulder with his good left hand.

Stell mumbled their appreciation and rolled more onto their belly, giving Nick as much space to work on their shoulders as possible. "That's the spot," they sighed, and then, a few minutes later when they had fewer knots in their muscles. "Something on your mind, Nick?"

Sharp as a tack, Stell. Even in the middle of the night, and recovering from a nightmare, they could tell when Nick had something to say.

Nick hesitated slightly before, brushing a few strands of hair away from their familiar goggled face. "You got me thinking. Maybe we've already been doing that, uh, 'queerplatonic' thing, without realizing." His fingers strayed across the soft-prickly buzzed hair around the side of their delicate skull.

"Mm," Stell answered, somewhere between an agreeing hum and a groan in response to his touch. They smooshed their face into their pillow, pushing toward his fingers like a cat, and shivered a bit when he repeated the caress across the side of their head and down behind their ear. They had a sensitive scalp, Nick wouldn't have guessed, and his synthetic body did a pretty good impression at a flush of heat traveling through him at the realization.

With this simple touch he could give Stell pleasure, and that was a wonderful feeling. A little much for right now, though. He pulled his hand back to himself, carefully, and Stell yawned.

"You'll be able to sleep now?" Nick asked.

Stell nodded slightly. "Yeah, I think so. Thanks."

"Any time," Nick promised, and he really did mean it. He'd rather Stell didn't have nightmares, but as long as they did he was glad to be there to help them through the aftermath. On impulse he leaned down and pressed a brief peck to their exposed cheekbone. He stood quickly, before they could react. "I'm right here if you need me, darl."

"I'll be counting on that," Stell answered, and Nick let himself hear it as the promise it was.


	5. roles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling their way into a relationship, there's bound to be some friction. (And not the fun kind, unfortunately. Not yet.)

Things changed after that, but they also stayed the same.

They were still a great pair. Nick and Stell, side by side across the Commonwealth. They helped people, they sleuthed out old mysteries and found people who needed found, and carried on as they'd done all these months. They still shared everything they had together. The difference was that they cuddled too. Stell was more likely to throw and arm around Nick while they looked over a case file with him, or to flop over and put their head in his lap while they talked if they were on a couch. Nick found himself growing accustomed to it—craving it, even. It had been far too long since he'd had that kind of human contact and it made him feel, for the lack of a better term, _alive_.

They kept to their usual level of distance in public, or, more accurately, their usual level of closeness. Nothing that would raise eyebrows, nothing more than Stell shared with any of their other friends. Stell hadn't initiated any public displays of affection, so Nick didn't either. Until he went and forgot, of course. They wandered alone so much, and he'd gotten so used to holding them close when he could, that he didn't even think about it. He just slung his arm around Stell's waist when they came into proximity, tugging them in close and pressing a peck to their cheek. It did not occur to him that they were in the Dugout Inn on a Friday night until Stell stiffened in a startle—but then all but melted against his side.

The Dugout was busy on an evening, and busier still on a weekend. Nick was there to meet with a client who didn't want to be seen coming into the agency, so they'd chosen a time when a lot of people would be in the Dugout to avoid arousing suspicion. Which meant that Nick had just outed his and Stell's relationship to the entirety of Diamond City, and from there the whole Commonwealth. He couldn't have advertised it louder if he'd done it directly from the Mayor's balcony.

Stell was smiling, though. Nick could tell, even through their bandanna, that Stell was grinning fit to split their face, and they made no sign that they wanted to be anywhere but on his arm.

As though they'd been waiting for _him_ to be comfortable with it.

The client showed up before Nick could follow that line of thought any further, and she was a bit nervous of Stell, so they excused themself to go spectate on a game of chess while Nick worked. They left him with a squeeze around his waist and an affectionate bump of their shoulder against his. Like nothing had changed. Maybe it hadn't.

To avoid suspicion, Nick had to stay in the Dugout Inn for quite a while after the client left. Stell was pulled into a spirited game of darts, and waved him on to leave ahead while they cleaned house, so it was several hours later when they came to find him in the agency. Plenty of time for Nick to think over his impulsive action and their reaction to it.

Stell might be his knight in shining armor, but Nick was none too keen on being cast as the damsel in the relationship. The one who needed to be eased into it and not frightened off.

They came into the agency swaggering a bit, smelling like fried foods and Bobrov's moonshine. The alcohol was all on their clothes and none on their breath when they leaned down to press their cheek against Nicks, the kind of not-quite-kiss they'd taken to giving him when they were covered up, but it still managed to get Nick's coolant pumping.

"I brushed my teeth," he said, and it was almost begging. He _wanted_ Stell, so much it was nearly terrifying after so long of convincing himself he didn't need anything. Stell immediately pulled down their bandanna to kiss him. Nick wasn't sure he'd ever get enough of their mouth on his, but Stell pulled away far too soon.

"I've got to wash up. Some asshole spilled his drink on me. Is yours free?" Stell asked, turning toward it.

"Yeah. Ellie's still out," Nick answered. Stell grabbed their pack and went, and when they come back out in nothing but boxers and a worn-thin tshirt, he wasn't any more sure how to bring up his thoughts. Best just charge right in, then. Stell seemed to appreciate bluntness. "So, about that, uh, kiss in the Dugout..."

Stell smiled, bright and gorgeous, and Nick entirely forgot the second part of his sentence. "I guess the cat's out of the bag, huh?" they said. "I hope you're ok with that. I mean, I tried not to contribute to the rampant speculation, but it's pretty intense out there."

"And here I thought you were the one who might be uncomfortable?" Nick shook his head. "I was planning on waiting for you."

Stell cocked their head to the side, just one the the mannerisms they'd picked up to be expressive even with their face covered. In this instance, Nick could see their brow drawing together in confusion too. "I've got nothing to be ashamed of," they said. "I'm ready for whatever you're comfortable with. I thought I'd made that clear? We're taking this at your pace, Nick."

"See, that's just the thing." Nick closed the case file he honestly hadn't been able to focus on for the past hour and stood. He needlessly straightened his papers, just to avoid looking at Stell. "I'm not entirely comfortable with being the girl here?"

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, finally broken when Stell spoke again. "I'm... confused. How does setting the pace make you 'the girl'?" There was a touch of frost in their voice that Nick did not like having put there. He'd definitely put his foot in it now, but he wasn't exactly sure how.

"Well. That's how it goes, doesn't it?" Nick left off harassing his paperwork and lit a cigarette to keep his hands occupied. "Be gentle with your new gal, so you don't scare her off."

Stell's jaw was tense, lips tight, when he finally made himself look over at them again, and they had folded their arms. They took a deep breath, steadying themself like they were about to take a difficult shot, but their voice was gentle when they spoke. "You've only ever been in heterosexual relationships before, right?" He nodded, and they continued. "Well, we're not one. There is nothing either of us could do that would make us the 'girl' in the relationship, because _neither of us is a girl_. Ok?"

"Sure. I understand that." It was basic, obvious, but it didn't do much to fix how Nick felt about the situation. "It doesn't... it just doesn't feel right. It feels like..." Nick gestured with the cigarette, a bit helplessly. He didn't know that he had the words for it.

Stell sighed, but they did jump in where he didn't have the vocabulary. "Like the old sexist scripts are the only relationship map you have, and you don't know where you are on it anymore? Like if you're not the 'strong invulnerable aggressive man' stereotype, you must be in the 'fragile woman' box instead?" They shook their head sharply. "Hell, I've been there too, but it's bullshit. There is _nothing_ inherently gendered about having boundaries, or being unsure, or vulnerable. I'm sure you're smart enough to figure _that_ much out."

Nick bristled at the sharpness of their tone. "Well, forgive an old synth for not being up to date with all the social movements from two centuries ago. I'm doing my best here, Stell."

Stell's hands clenched into fists, eyes burning. They glanced toward their pack and one wiry arm twitched, like they were fighting the instinct to grab it and storm out. They took another deep breath, deliberately unclenching their jaw and opening their hands.

"I don't want to fight with you." Their voice was almost painfully even, devoid of any emotion. "Lets take five, calm down, and try again? I'll be in Ellie's room." They pointed upward, and Nick nodded. They nodded back once, tight and military-precise, and turned on their heel to march out of the room and up the stairs.

Nick was left alone with his cigarette and the sting of Stell's anger. His internal chronometer ticked down the seconds of the requested five minutes, far too slowly for his liking.

It wasn't _like_ Stell to get angry, and that they had when Nick was just trying to communicate sparked the same in him. He might be a machine, but damn it all he was allowed to have feelings! They were about all he had left of his humanity, that and his moral compass. Take either away and he wouldn't be Nick anymore.

Normally Stell made him feel _more_ human, not less. Human contact, love if he let himself think the word, had been denied him so long before Stell came into his life. He was more the man he wanted to be with them. He wasn't so God-damn lonely.

And the unflappable Stell, who took the broken world and a broken-down old synth in stride, was angry with him. If he'd fucked this one up, if he'd pissed them off enough to break the relationship off.... Well, it might be better for _them_ , they could get together with someone who could offer them more, but it sure as hell wasn't going to be better for Nick Valentine.

The seconds were still ticking down. Nick's chronometer had never failed on him, he trusted it, but subjectively it felt like it had sped up. He wasn't ready to face Stell yet.

Nick stood frozen, a minute thirty past the five minute mark, before he forced himself to put down his extinguished cigarette and make for the stairs. Stell was coming down them when he turned the corner, and they both stopped and stared at each other. It was Stell who broke first—they finished descending and sat on his bed, gesturing him over with a turn of their head.

If Nick's palms could sweat, they would be.

Stell sat on the bed, hands on their knees and back ramrod straight. Nick was still standing in the doorway, feeling like he was facing the executioner.

"Look, Stell, I'm sorry I said anything. I—" Nick started, a nervous babble, only to be halted by Stell's raised hand.

"May I go first?" they requested. When he nodded, they did with him. Their eyes flitted over him and then down to their knees, like they were just as nervous as he was. They nodded again, to themself it seemed, before they started. "I need to apologize to you. I don't think I was hearing what you were saying. I hope I wasn't?" They swallowed hard. "It's just a very big sore spot. It's been a problem in relationships before, the whole 'you don't act like I think a woman should and I feel emasculated'. But I don't think that's what you were actually trying to say? That's not the Nick I know and love." They finally looked back up at him, dark eyes begging.

"I wasn't," Nick assured them. "I don't know what I was trying to say, but I don't want to change you."

Stell smiled, just a tiny bit with the corner of their mouth, and some of the stiffness eased from their spine. "So, leaving gendered terms out of it, could you try again to tell me what was bothering you?"

"Well," Nick pressed his fingertips together, bare metal against stained plastic, then spread his hands in surrender as he shrugged. "I'll give it a try. This doesn't exactly come natural, but I'll do my best. That's all I can promise."

"And that's all I can ask." Stell had set themself with plenty of space to their right on Nick's bed, and they glanced toward it and then back to Nick. They let go of their knee to make a small gesture toward it. Welcoming him to join them. Nick was glad to take them up on it, and stepped across to the small room to sit beside them. Not quite close enough for their knees to touch, but closer than they had been. Stell lay their hand on the thin bedspread between them, palm up, and Nick put his good left hand on top of it—lacing their fingers together.

That was something they'd started doing recently, wasn't it? Putting Nick on their right, so the hand he was comfortable touching them with was closer to them. It was just one of those tiny details he hadn't thought much of, but perfectly illustrated how much they _wanted_ to be close to him. Maybe almost as much as he wanted to be close to them.

Stell didn't push Nick, didn't rush him to organize his thoughts. They were just there by his side until he had managed to come up with something suitable. Leaving all gendered talk out of it was easier said than done.

"I think, what it boils down to is, I don't want to feel like I'm being coddled."

"Ok." Stell worried at their bottom lip with their teeth, brow furrowed as they thought. "And I don't want to be pressuring you, because I do want more, faster, than you do. So how do we balance this?"

"I don't know." Nick ran his thumb gently up and down the outside of theirs. "It's not easy, is it? I didn't think you wanted everyone to know about _us_. And you didn't think _I_ wanted anyone to know yet... and here we are."

"We both assumed. Living proof of what happens when you assume."

"It certainly did make an ass of you and me," Nick drawled.

Stell groaned, letting go of him to instead bury their face in their hands, elbows on their knees. "We're going to have to talk about it, aren't we? Every little thing." They visibly steeled themself. "Ok. All right. Are there any other things you've been wanting that you didn't think I did? Like being public about our relationship. You _are_ ok with it being public?"

"I'm of two minds, with that," Nick admitted. "On the one hand I'm so happy about us I want to steal a Brotherhood airship and broadcast my lucky news to the entire Commonwealth." Stell snorted a laugh at that image. "On the other, I'm so damn scared you're going to come to your senses and toss me out like yesterday's paper..."

Stell dropped their hands. "No," they said firmly. "Not happening."

"It's out now, regardless," Nick said. "No taking it back. Not gracefully, at least, and I don't really mind. Where we go from here, that's the real question. Now I know you're expecting me to set the pace, and tell you what I want, I guess I can do that. But, in the interest of not feeling coddled and facing this as an equal partnership, it sure wouldn't hurt to hear what _you_ want from time to time. I am fully capable of telling you 'no' if I'm not comfortable with it. So what is it you want, darl?"

"Right now?" Stell looked over at him for a long moment, contemplative. "What I'd like right now is for you to lie down and let me cuddle you 'till I feel better. Maybe make out a little?"

"That doesn't sound half bad." Nick kicked his shoes off, and then after a moment's contemplation removed his coat too. Stell crawled to the wall side of the bed, so there was space for Nick to lie down. They immediately scooted close, arm and leg thrown over his body and their head on his shoulder. Stell held him tight, speaking with their body rather than their words now, and Nick held them tight in answer. Still, it couldn't be all that comfortable for them. "This is nice, but let me know if you need to move. I'm not exactly padded anymore," he offered.

"It's fine," Stell answered. They rubbed their hand up and down his chest, a slow exploration that Nick wouldn't have allowed anyone else. He didn't mind Stell's clever fingers discovering the scrapes and tears in his casing. He didn't particularly have ticklish spots anymore to worry about, so he could just enjoy the fact that they wanted to touch him. So long as he didn't think too hard on the shape of the body they were touching, it felt good. Better than good. How long had his body been starving for touch, before they came along?

"I'm scared." Stell's voice was quiet, and it took a moment for Nick to get his mind back in the moment to make sense of what they were saying. "I've lost everything, Nick. I'm _so scared_ I'll lose this, too, if I ask you for more than you're ready for."

"You won't." Nick rubbed Stell's shoulder. "Weeeell, unless you transform into a complete asshole at the same time. But that's not the Stell we all know and love." Stell laughed, a little wetly, and Nick pressed a dry plastic kiss to their forehead and nudged their chin up. "Kiss me... wait." He drew his face back as they lifted theirs to kiss him. "I smoked."

Stell chased after his mouth to kiss him anyway, eyes sparkling with humor and only the faintest hint of tears. "Just one little cigarette? I think I'll survive.


	6. the hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is this? Plot?

It took some time, with Stell gathering every spare pencil they came across—and then a sudden windfall of weights from an old gym—to get enough lead to coat a set of power armor. Stell did what they could, with a gas mask and heavy welding gloves to protect from lead exposure, but it was mostly Nick and Codsworth who leaded the power armor pieces for them.

Funny, that something as poisonous as lead would protect Stell from something as deadly as radiation.

Once Stell had a full set of working power armor, leaded and upgraded as far as they and Sturges could take it, all that was left to do was grab a stock of stimpacks and radx, and all the ammo they could haul, and head out into the Glowing Sea on the rumor of an escaped Institute scientist.

Nick did offer to bow out in favor of Strong, since he was also immune to radiation and better at melee combat to boot. There was bound to be a lot of that on this trip: Stell couldn't exactly be _stealthy_ in power armor. Stell just bumped elbows with him and said there was nobody they'd rather have at their side—if he wanted to be there. Of course Nick wanted to be there. He wanted to see Stell's story through. So off they went.

The Glowing Sea was every bit as awful as advertised. Hazy, irradiated to hell, and full to the brim of ferals, deathclaws, and radscorpions. Nothing grew there. Nothing _good_ , at least. Nick was glad Stell had their power armor, to give them a little bit of distance from the worst of it.

He did tease them about looking pretty good as a robot. Stell laughed—tinny through their power armor speakers—and patted him very carefully on the back with one huge armored hand.

Travel through the Glowing Sea was no walk in the park, but it wasn't so hard to find the Institute scientist after all. The "children of Atom" who didn't have the good sense nature granted a radroach and chose to live right in the bomb crater itself pointed them in the right direction.

Virgil was a surprise, what with being a super mutant and all. The meeting might not have gone so well if Nick and Stell weren't already accustomed to Strong. Virgil was uncertain at first, probably thought they were mercenaries like Kellog sent to kill him, but Stell managed to get him on their side just by being themself. They shared fresh produce and grain from the Minutemen settlements, along with some cultivation tips, and discussed water filtration and radiation shielding and wasteland survival and over all just treated Virgil like any other person. The man must have been lonely, alone in his cave, because he lapped it up. Before long Virgil was telling them information about the Institute that they couldn't have gotten from anywhere but an inside source.

So they just had to kill one of the commonwealth's ultimate boogeymen, a courser, the Institute's manhunters. The ones that never failed to capture or destroy their targets.

You'd think it was simple, with how Stell took the news. They were sitting cross-legged across from Virgil, and they looked so tiny and fragile outside their power armor and in comparison to him, but they didn't flinch when told what they needed to do. They got the courser-tracking program onto their pip-boy, and then, even though Virgil was an Institute scientist—even though he had obviously built his Institute career by kidnapping and experimenting on Commonwealth citizens and turning them into super mutants before he had his change of heart—Stell agreed to try and find the super mutant cure for him, if they did make it into the Institute.

Nick was damn sure he didn't have that much forgiveness in him. There was a kind of poetic justice that the man who'd engineered the super mutant invasion of the Commonwealth was now one himself. Nick knew just enough diplomacy not to air his thoughts about it until they were well away from Virgil. Which meant the next day. First, Stell needed to have a good nights sleep. Traversing the Glowing Sea had taken a lot out of them, even in power armor.

Virgil allowed Stell space in the outer cave to set their bedroll up, and Nick found a decently comfortable squat along the wall where he could keep watch on both of them. Stell blew Nick a kiss and settled into a light doze in their bedroll, and Virgil puttered awkwardly with his machinery. Watching him, Nick could easily believe that Virgil was used to a smaller and weaker body. Figuring out how to use his current one without breaking things had probably been quite the learning curve.

Virgil's expressions were difficult to read. Strong notwitstanding, Nick wasn't used to dealing with non-murderous super mutants. Still, he seemed a bit nervous. He glanced toward Nick now and then as he worked. His eyebrows climbed when Nick had a smoke, having judged that the smoke would blow away from Stell's sleeping space.

Finally, Virgil broke the silence with a fair imitation of a whisper. Probably the quietest he could get in his current incarnation. "You know you're... unusual. For a gen2."

He sounded so matter-of-fact, like of course he knew what kind of a thing Nick was. Nick had been trying not to think about it, about the fact that he was talking to an Institute scientist. He might be a detective, but he'd made his peace with the fact that there were some things about his origins he would never know. That maybe he didn't _want_ to know. It was an uneasy peace, sure, but he'd built it himself over the long years. And now, with a simple phrase, Virgil had knocked a chink in the wall.

"What do you mean?" Nick asked, nice and easy. Like it didn't matter.

"All your manerisms. Your voice." Virgil gestured to Nick's whole body. "You're obviously not running the standard program. You're like a _person_."

"Damn right I'm a person," Nick growled. Stell made a sleepy sound of discomfort, and Nick lit up another cigarette to give them time to fall back asleep and to calm himself down before he continued. Quiet again. "I've got the mind and memories of a pre-war cop, a real one. What I want to know is _why_? Why was I made? And why was I thrown out with the garbage?"

Virgil took two steps back, big beefy hands twisting in front of him like a man who was used to being small and easily cowed. "I don't know," he said. "I don't. Synths weren't my division. I was biology. Synths were around, but I never. I didn't think about it, or really interact with those scientists?"

Nick sighed and took a good puff of his cigarette. "Figures. It was worth a shot, though."

"I do know you weren't thrown out," Virgil continued. "The Institute doesn't throw things out. Work it 'till it breaks, then recycle it into something else? Yes. Shove it into a storage closet and forget about it? All the time. But throw out? Never. The only things that get out of that place are the ones that escape on purpose, and only the luckiest of those actually make it."

 _So why don't I remember_ , Nick didn't demand. Virgil couldn't tell him, any more than Nick could figure it out himself. The question ate away at him, when he let it. He could remember the original Nick Valentine's life. He could remember everything since he came too in the garbage heap, with clarity no human memory could match. But whatever went on between those two points was entirely opaque to him.

He wasn't even sure he wanted Stell to look into it, if they ever did make it into the Institute. He wasn't planning on asking them to, but he wasn't sure he'd ask them _not_ to, either. Trusting it to their judgment was at once the easiest and most comfortable option. There was no one else Nick trusted quite like that.

As for Virgil not believing Nick had been tossed? Well, it was a fair sight more heroic to have made a brave escape than to have been thrown into the garbage, that was certain. It was nice to think, anyway, even if Nick didn't have any proof one way or another.

Virgil had begun powering down his computer and machines, turning out lights, as Nick thought. He glanced nervously Nick's way a few more times as he did. "I would appreciate some privacy," he requested.

Nick still didn't trust the man, but he hadn't done anything threatening so far. He ground out his cigarette and levered himself back up to his feet. "I'll leave you to it, then."

Virgil nodded to him, and Nick found a place nearer Stell to keep watch from. Soon he and the protectron on patrol were the only ones awake, and protectrons weren't exactly known for their great conversational skills.

The night passed easily, quiet in the cave with only the sound of the protectron marching and the turret scanning, and the occasional rumble of thunder from the neverending radstorm outside. Stell drowsed, blearily checking for danger on occasion when they switched position, and fell into a deeper sleep as dawn approached. They woke sharply when Virgil started moving around. They were asleep one instant, and on one knee with their pistol in their hands the next. They aimed at the empty power armor for an instant, then Nick, and then Stell was awake enough to recognize where they were and who he was. Lucky the protectron had been in the other room; Nick had yet to meet one who responded to a drawn weapon with anything but violence.

Stell put the pistol away and yawned as they pushed their goggles up to wipe the sleep from their eyes. Nick took the opportunity to blow them a kiss. Stell smiled and winked back—they looked exhausted—and then they settled their goggles back over their eyes and returned to a tireless enigma.

Virgil pretty clearly wanted them both out of his space, and that suited Nick just fine. Stell left Virgil with a renewed promise to find the cure and a friendly pat to his shoulder that shocked him into silence. Stell hopped back into the power armor, and Nick followed them out of the cave and back into the Glowing Sea. Behind them, Virgil was touching his arm like he hadn't been touched in years and didn't know what to do with it. Nick could sympathize with that much, at least, even if he couldn't quite sympathize with the plight he'd put himself in.

He waited until they were an hour away before he brought it up with Stell. "We're really going to get him the cure?" he asked. "You weren't just saying, to get him on your side?"

"I will if I can," Stell answered, faraway and tinny through their power armor speakers. Nick didn't say anything, but maybe Stell read something into his silence. "You don't approve."

"The man built his career on kidnapping good Commonwealth folks and turning them into super mutants," Nick answered. "How many people's lives did he destroy? You sure you can forgive that?"

Stell trudged on, scanning awkwardly from side to side for danger as they led the way. Nick almost expected they'd decided to drop the topic. If he were able to see any of their body language, he might have been able to tell that they were just thinking. "He gave up everything," they finally said. "Yes, he did horrible things, but when he realized that, he didn't just wring his hands and make mouth noises about it. He _did something_. He gave up his friends, his family, his _humanity_ , to make sure it would stop." Stell fell silent again, for the space of a few breaths. "So, yeah. Virgil is always going to be a refugee, alone in his cave, and he earned that. But I can give him a little hope and comfort, and try and get him his body back."

Well, when you put it like that...

Before Nick could answer, Stell held their hand up in a 'hold' gesture. They pointed to a smudge on the hazy horizon. "Deathclaw, three o'clock." They hefted their distinctly _un_ sneaky laser rifle, Nick made sure his pistol was fully loaded, and the moment for conversation was over.

 

So. Get out of the Glowing Sea, crash in Sanctuary for a few days to allow Stell to recover and get a radaway treatment from a traveling doctor, check that none of the nearby settlements needed help, and it was time to hunt a Courser.

Simple, right? Just follow the beeping radio to track down a killer who was tracking down someone that a pack of Gunners were also trying to track down. It got bloody, there was no denying, but Stell was relentless with an electrified sword and a silenced pistol as they ghosted their way through the building. Nick just had to watch their six, and before long they were at the top floor and actually hearing the clipped murmur of the Courser's voice.

Stell loaded their wounding shotgun, still the nastiest piece Nick had _ever_ seen, modded out to be even stronger and deadlier, and turned their blood-spattered goggles toward him. "I've got this. You stay back," they whispered.

"Like hell I will." No way was Nick sending Stell to face a damn courser and half a dozen Gunners on their own.

Stell grabbed him by the back of the head and dragged him in for a hard kiss through their bandanna. It should have been ridiculous on the face of it, dirty fabric against plastic, but it wasn't. Stell's breath hitched, a broken little gasp, and he could feel the pressure of their teeth nipping at his bottom lip. The raw hunger of it made him ache in parts he didn't have anymore.

It wasn't a last kiss. Nick refused to believe it was a last kiss.

"God, I love you," Stell whispered, a hot breath against his mouth, and then they were striding into the room with the courser like there was nothing in this broken world that could touch them. And there wouldn't be, so long as this broken down old synth could still stand to back them up.

They lit the room up, together, and at the end of it Stell had what they came for. A courser chip in the bloody palm of their hand.

They freed the girl, the _synth_ the courser had been hunting, and she looked at Stell like they were an avenging angel. Stell had that effect, when they wanted to. They could make themself seem like an unstoppable force of nature, but Nick got to see them afterward. He got to see them shaking with the aftereffects of all that adrenaline, got to help them inject stimpacks to heal up injuries their combat armor had only managed to deaden rather than block.

Nick got to be the one to hold them and rub their back until they unknotted and could breathe again. That was an intimacy all its own, and Stell only gave it to less than a handful of people. Stell might be the last best hope of the Commonwealth, but they were just _human_ with Nick.

 

He went with them, when Stell set out to follow the Freedom Trail, to find the ever-elusive Railroad. If anyone could find them, it would be Stell. They needed the courser chip decoded to get into the Institute, and only the Railroad might be able to do it, so find them Stell would.

Red lines, and circled letters on old plaques, and it spelled out 'railroad' by the time it led them to the Old North Church. They paused on the steps for a long moment, looking at the decrepit building, before Stell turned to Nick.

"I think... this part, I've got to do on my own."

"Sure," Nick agreed, even if it made his synthetic approximation of a heart clench. "Well, you know where to find me."

Stell wrapped their arms around him, holding him tight for a long moment. Maybe they couldn't find the right words, either. They cupped his face in both hands for a long moment, just looking at him like he was something beautiful, and then they were sliding through the door of the church almost as stealthily as a shadow, but with no one to watch their back. And Nick was left to make his way back to Diamond City and the agency alone.


	7. a helping hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yeah." Stell nodded. "I _am_ happy, and...." they blushed, untanned lower cheeks reddening slightly as they ducked their head. "You might have noticed, horny as fuck and kind of hoping my boyfriend would like to be involved?" They looked at him from under their lashes, waiting for his reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that the fic rating has been changed to Explicit, and a handful of new tags have been added. This chapter contains a character experiencing some sex-triggered dysphoria.
> 
> Be gentle with yourselves, and read with care.

Stell was gone for nigh on a month before they blew back through the agency's door with no warning and a sing-song, "Honey, I'm home!"

"Stell!" Nick answered, pushing his chair back and grinning at them across the room. They looked good. They'd already shed their combat armor in favor of a sweater vest and a newsboy cap, which only clashed a bit with their iconic bandanna and welding goggles. They had a laugh in their voice, a bounce in their step, and Nick was so damn happy to see them he didn't even care about their questionable fashion sense.

Nick hadn't been too worried about them, really. There had been rumors of Stell spotted throughout the Commonwealth, here and there. They'd been at Bunker Hill with a caravaner, in a few settlements traveling with a Minuteman who wasn't Preston, and here and there clearing out raider strongholds and super mutant dens—always with an unfamiliar man, and never with the _same_ man twice.

Nick had his doubts on that front, but he kept them to himself as he waited for Stell to wander on back to Diamond City. There was work to focus on, always. Nick cleared out a few easy cases, and held onto the harder ones for when he had his partner back at his side. His suspicions were confirmed when a man in a wig, sunglasses, and a DC Guard outfit followed Stell in the door.

"And Deacon. Good to see you again!" Nick greeted. Stell laughed, thrilled, when Deacon drew up short.

"See, I told you!" Deacon told Stell. "Every. Single. Time. I'll be, uh..." he made an indistinct gesture and retreated with only a brief nod to Nick and Ellie in greeting. Stell let him go with a friendly smack to his shoulder. The door hadn't even closed behind him, and Stell had only made it a single step toward Nick, when Ellie stood.

"Oof, my eyes are going to cross if I have to read one more word," she said, closing her file. "I'm going to go pester Piper. Don't expect me back before morning."

Stell caught her in a quick hug around her waist, and made a kissing sound next to her cheek. "Thanks Ellie," they said. "I'll catch up with you over breakfast? And Piper too. I've got presents for you both, but.. tomorrow."

Ellie laughed, hugging Stell back, and threw Nick a wink behind their back before closing the agency door behind them. There was a click as they did—she'd locked the door on her way out, of all the cheeky—

But Nick did not have time to finish that thought. Stell replaced it, having dropped their pack beside his desk and straddled him in his chair. Nick thought he could be forgiven for losing the thread when the person he loved was in his lap after being gone for so long.

Stell had one arm around his shoulders, holding him close, as they gently caressed his cheek with the other hand. "Hi." Their voice was soft, intimate, turning the simple greeting into pure seduction.

Really, what could Nick do but tug their bandanna down and kiss them? He hadn't brushed his teeth in longer than bore thinking of, so he gave only the barest whisper of a kiss to Stell's lips and kissed instead the corner of their mouth, their chin, their cheeks, the edge of their jaw. Their skin was soft and smooth under his lips, they smelled like warmth and sweat and the Commonwealth's radioactive dust. Nick had to try very hard not to clench down on their thigh with the bare metal of his right hand, especially when they moaned and their thighs flexed against his to lift themself up a little higher as they raised chin a bit to encourage him to kiss down their neck. He didn't. He _wanted_ , but he didn't keep kissing down their neck. He drew back, just a little bit, and Stell didn't press for more.

Nick floundered for words, trying to think of something to say, finally settling on. "No presents for me?" Anything to diffuse the intensity of the situation.

"Of course I have presents for you too." Stell smiled and tugged off their goggles, arching their spine a bit as they reached back to lay them on Nick's desk, which was not helpful to Nick's peace of mind. The somewhat impressive black eye the dark goggles had covered up did a much better job. It was yellowing, well on its way to healing, but it looked like it had been damn painful. Stell didn't even seem to notice. They tightened their powerful legs around Nick—again, very unhelpful—and leaned over to grab their pack. They didn't even have to dig. The thing closest to the top was what they were looking for.

Stell unrolled the tight bundle to reveal... a trenchcoat just like Nicks? They were grinning hard, almost manic, as they flipped it open to show him the inside, which was distinctly different from Nicks current getup. "Ballistic weave!" they crooned. "Drapes and breathes like fabric, protects better than the strongest armor. Old World _Generals_ got stuff this good." They pressed the armored trenchcoat into Nick's chest. Like they thought he could accept a present like that.

"I do all right. You need this a hell of a lot more than I do." Nick tried to pass the trenchcoat back, but Stell's hand firm on his chest stopped him, along with the sudden serious set to their face. His accepting the present suddenly didn't seem like a choice.

"I have plenty." Stell rolled up one cuff of their shirt to show the same weave on the inside of their own shirt. "I have enough for a few outfits for myself, and to give one each to Piper, Ellie, and Preston. And you. I need... I _need_ the people I care about as safe as I can make them? Please?"

So, a set of presents for Stell as much as for the people they were gifting them to. Nick could live with that, inasmuch as he could be said to be alive. He'd done just fine without it, but a trenchcoat that could stop bullets certainly wouldn't be a bad thing to have in his line of work.

"Thank you," Nick finally accepted. "I'll be happy to wear it."

All the tension dropped from Stell's shoulders, and they gave him an affectionate kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thanks Nick. I do have another present, which I really hope isn't creepy and if it's creepy we can pretend it never happened?"

Now that was interesting. Nick couldn't guess what kind of a present might be considered creepy. "Well, consider my curiosity piqued," he drawled. "Lay it on me." He almost reached for his cigarettes, but the closeness of Stell in his lap stopped him. They certainly didn't appreciate having smoke blown in their face. He stroked their thigh instead, not that the motion helped him maintain what calm he'd managed to collect. Particularly not when Stell leaned over to dig through their pack again and it flexed beneath his hand.

They hesitated a long moment before they straightened up and presented what they'd found to Nick.

A hand.

A synth right hand, to be exact, somewhat less worn than Nick's left. It was that familiar pasty gray plastic, very much like the right hand he'd woken up with before the casing went to pieces from overuse.

Stell was biting their lower lip, a faint line between their brows as they watched him. "You don't like touching anything with your right hand, and I know it gets grit in the joints because it doesn't have any protection. And I know _I_ couldn't install this over it, but I'm sure Surges could? If you want it. Otherwise it's just another useless piece of scrap I scavenged somewhere and we can forget all about it."

To be honest, Nick didn't much think about replacing his parts. He hadn't broken down completely yet and that... that had to be enough. His timespan might be much longer than a human's, but his version of aging was still to wait and see how long his mind and body held out. Though, as a synth, he did have the 'trading out parts' option. And Stell had brought that option to him, unasked. Both the hand and the trenchcoat were saying the same thing: that Stell wanted him around and functioning at the best he could for as long as possible. That Stell wanted to take care of him.

Stell had said their piece, and was quiet while Nick thought it over. To be honest, the idea of having a casing over his right hand—even if it was gray plastic instead of real flesh—was appealing. Hell, there were a few other parts of Nick's body that might could use some TLC if Stell came across the parts.

"I'll take it," Nick finally said, and Stell smiled. "Just so long as you don't want to replace my face. I've grown into this old mug." Either it had adapted to him, taking on a few of the shapes and wrinkles of his face from the way he talked and held it, or he'd gotten used to it. Or maybe a bit of both. Nick didn't mind his face anymore, not like he had at first. It didn't give him the same uncanny-valley feeling as when he looked at another gen-2. He wasn't sure if it had come to resemble his memory of the original Nick's face, or if the memories had been adjusted to be closer to what he looked like now. Either way, the thought of starting over in a blank synth face again was anything but pleasant.

"I like this old mug," Stell agreed, setting both hand and trenchcoat aside to cup Nick's face in their hands. They kissed him on the lips, heedless of what he must taste like, and they must have noticed the convulsive clench of both his hands on their thighs. They shivered, but didn't say anything as they took his hat away, the better to touch him.

Such simple touches, but parts Nick didn't come installed with were aching to get in on the party. "So you travel with Deacon now?" Nick said, to try and get some distance back. "I take it you found..."

Stell silenced him with another kiss, a faint nod against his lips a confirmation of what Nick had suspected for quite some time about the most changeable man in the Commonwealth. He was Railroad after all. Nick knew he'd liked him for more than just his cutting whit.

"You freak him out something terrible," Stell confessed, a whispered confidence against Nick's ear. "You always recognize him, no matter what. He's got a theory you're the Institute's first attempt at a Courser."

"Obviously a _failed_ attempt." If Nick weren't so preoccupied with Stell in his lap he might have felt something stronger than the faint twist of revulsion at the suggestion. For all he knew, he could be the prototype courser. Before the Institute learned to code out moral fiber and a sense of justice.

He did have a knack for finding people—better than the original Nick had, even.

"Thank god for that!" Stell agreed, smile wrinkles deepening around their eyes.

"You look happy," Nick said. "You're doing all right? Finding what you're looking for?"

"Yeah. I'll... um, I'll tell you what I can when we're not..?" They gestured vaguely toward the room, or probably toward Diamond City and the thinness of the walls around them. The Railroad was not well loved in Diamond City. Stell's caution was wise.

"And Deacon?" Nick asked. "He's looking after you?" He touched Stell's black eye, very softly, with his left hand.

Stell looked confused a second, before they seemed to remember the bruise. "Would you believe me if I said I tried a new rifle and blackened my own eye with the scope on the kickback?" they asked, and didn't wait for Nick's skepticism—he'd never seen them be anything but perfectly competent with a rifle—before they hurried on to the rest of their answer. "Deacon's good: funny guy, fun to travel with. He's got my back. And he's been... helping, make progress on the case."

"Good," Nick said, and he meant it.

"So, yeah." Stell nodded. "I _am_ happy, and...." they blushed, untanned lower cheeks reddening slightly as they ducked their head. "You might have noticed, horny as fuck and kind of hoping my boyfriend would like to be involved?" They looked at him from under their lashes, waiting for his reaction. Nick might have frozen for a second too long, coolant pumps kicking into high gear, because their smile faltered. "Or I can keep it to myself. No pressure if that's not what you want. I'm still happy to see you." They stroked Nick's cheek with the back of a knuckle, giving him the easy out. Their body stilled, all those teasing little motions in his lap coming to a complete stop.

Nick had asked Stell to tell him what they wanted, and here they were, telling him. It wouldn't be fair to let them think he didn't _want_ what they were offering.

"It's not a matter of not wanting to, darl," Nick promised, stroking their thighs, so warm and firm under his hands. "I want it, want _you_. If I had the parts, I would have been packing heat from the moment you sat on me. But I don't."

"We could go to Goodneighbor right now," Stell said, chin firming. Nick blinked his confusion at the non-sequitur and Stell continued. "If a cock is what you want to have for this, you know Daisy sells strap-ons out of the back room, all shapes and sizes. Plenty of ghouls out there end up needing a replacement. We could have you outfitted in no time. Or, hell, you could borrow mine if you want to go all the way to Sanctuary. Codsworth kept it safe in the box under the bed, all those years."

Wouldn't that just be a picture. Fake man with a fake dick. It would be cruel to say that to Stell, though. Nick knew that much. Their husband had used the very dildo they were offering him, the thought of which was enough to kill any lingering desire Nick had to try it.

"Forgive me if I'm a little less than eager to fuck you with your dead husband's dick," Nick said, and winced at how harsh the words had come out.

Stell flinched, a bit, before laughing. "It really is _mine_ , actually. I was always more cock-identified than Nate was. Off topic, anyway." Stell waved it off, like earth-shaking revelations didn't even matter. "Being the receptive partner isn't my favorite. I don't mind it, I'd do it for you if that's what you want... but, god Nick, you don't have to perform for me. I'd be happy shoving a hand down my pants while you make out with me. Just like this."

They made it sound so easy, and meanwhile Nick's mind was entirely caught up in the possibilities of Stell with a dick. What a mental image that was! So many possibilities that the original Nick had never been brave enough to try, and were impossible now that he wasn't equipped with orifices. The dick Nick didn't have throbbed with arousal, phantom sensations that only intensified when Stell swiveled their hips a bit in his lap.

"What do you say, Nick?" they prompted, a bit breathless.

Nick forced his mind to what was present and possible, getting Stell off even if they couldn't have actual sex. It did sound good. "I think we can do a little better than the chair," he said, and his voice almost sounded normal. He touched their lips, tracing the softest skin and the little raised line of their scar bisecting it, and Stell's tongue slipped out to tease around one fingertip—soft slick little circles. Nick's whole body tensed and shook in reaction. He leaned up, almost kissing them before he caught himself. "Let me brush my teeth, and then the bed?" he suggested. It was as much plan as he was capable of coming up with in the circumstances.

Stell made a purring sound, arching and grinding in his lap like they knew _exactly_ how hot they were. Nick groaned, good hand sliding down their body to squeeze at their thigh and ass.

"Sounds good," Stell said, and Nick was distracted enough that it took him a moment to follow. "I ought to wipe down, if we're getting all fancy about it. I've got half the Commonwealth in my pores."

"Sure," Nick agreed.

Stell grinned at him, eyes sparkling, and pressed a ghost kiss to the side of his mouth before standing. Nick trailed them into the washroom to brush his teeth and wash his mouth out while they filled a bucket to wash up with. He kissed them when he was done and they were only getting started. He intended just a quick peck, but Stell's strong fingers closed around the back of his neck and their mouth opened to welcome him into something far deeper and dirtier. Nick was anything but reluctant to take that invitation.

He went easily when Stell put their hand in the center of his chest and pushed him away, though. Their pupils were wide, breath short and quick. "I really do want to wash up," they said, "so get out of here before I ravage you in the washroom."

"Yes, General," Nick managed to pull himself together enough to throw off a salute. Stell laughed and gave his ass an affectionate swat as he left. He left them stripping down, and reached down to adjust his erection as he stepped into his bedroom to wait.

Of course, there wasn't an erection there to adjust. There was nothing but smooth ken-doll plastic, and the cognitive dissonance froze Nick in place for several long seconds. _Wrong_. What was supposed to be there wasn't, and what was there wasn't supposed to be. His body was metal and plastic, and there was no heart to race and no blood to pump and no dick to get hard when he was aroused. His body wasn't _his_ , it was a generic 'human-shaped' body that didn't resemble him in the slightest.

Nick had a cigarette out, hands shaking as he tried to ground himself in the familiar ritual, before he realized that he had _just_ brushed his teeth and really couldn't smoke right now.

Stell saved him, as usual, without even trying. They hadn't closed the washroom door behind him, and gave a somewhat-theatrical moan to accompany their splashing as they washed up. Stell, Nick could think of. The thought of them naked, wiping the grime from their wiry body to leave themself shiny and clean to come to his bed, was a brilliant distraction from his discomfort.

What they were going to do was about Stell, and not about Nick. They'd gone right out and said they didn't expect him to perform in a body that couldn't. He was just giving his partner a hand. The body he was in didn't matter.

Dysphoria successfully repressed, Nick removed his shoes and trenchcoat, and his tie too. No more than that, though. He sat on the edge of the bed, listening to Stell wash up, without looking. They were making quite the production of it, with appreciative groans and a long-sighed 'oh yeah' to go with the water sounds.

"Getting the party started without me?" Nick teased, and Stell laughed. There was a longer splash—pouring the bucket over themself to rinse off—some rustling with a towel, and Stell came bouncing into Nick's room.

They were completely naked, glistening wet here and there from their spotty drying job, and they climbed onto Nick's lap with a grin that was downright predatory. Forget deathclaws, Stell was definitely the most dangerous thing running wild through the Commonwealth, and their mouth was on his, kissing soft and deep and hungry. He could feel the heat of their body all across his front, the dampness of their skin sticking his clothes to him.

It was easy to get lost in the sensations. "Lay down," Stell suggested, and Nick lay on the bed with Stell lying full length on top of him, with their body grinding and undulating against his. "May I?" they asked, toying with his shirt buttons, and Nick nodded to let them. They slid their hands over his torso, wrong but _so close_ to right, before they settled on top of him, skin against skin. Or skin against plastic, as it were.

It was all right. It was a hell of a lot better than just 'all right', so long as Nick kept his focus on Stell. He pinned his bare right hand under his own thigh so he couldn't forget and accidentally hurt them with it, and let his left roam freely. Stell groaned against his lips when he cupped the shaved side of their head, and when he tugged on their hair. They arched into it when he dug his fingers into the tight muscles of their shoulders and back. They had no self-conscious reaction when Nick's hand made it to their belly, the saggy skin there unbelievably soft with its stretch marks. Maybe it was silly, but Nick loved it, loved that he got to see the indomitable Stell's soft parts.

Nick didn't linger there long before he moved on to Stell's ass and thighs, solid and firm from running all over the Commonwealth. Stell moaned against Nick's neck, legs opening further in invitation, and a dizzying wave of _want_ rolled through Nick. His hips bucked up on instinct alone, and the _wrongness_ of there being nothing there was enough to curdle the arousal in the guts he didn't have.

"I..." Nick tried, willing his coolant pumps to slow, working to get some measure of control back. "I thought we were going to get you off, darl?"

"I'm definitely getting there," Stell purred. They rubbed their body against his, arching like a cat in a way that was simultaneously hot as hell and terrible for Nick's self control. Then, finally, they rolled off him to cuddle against his right side. Their fingertips traced a trail down Nick's bare chest before settling between their legs. They shuddered as they started stroking themself, breath hot against the exposed wiring on the side of Nick's neck.

He rolled halfway toward them, just to get his mouth on theirs again. Conveniently, this also gave his left hand free rein to wander over Stell's body. They twitched uncomfortably when he accidentally touched their chest scars, but they seemed to love everything else. It didn't take long at all before Stell was coming. Their body arched back, gone stiff as they jerked through climax, and then they collapsed soft and sweet against Nick's chest.

"Oh Stell," he breathed. He wanted, horribly, but that didn't take away from the satisfaction of having been involved in Stell's pleasure. He just had to hold on to that bit, and not what he couldn't have.

Stell kissed him, loose and a bit uncoordinated, and lay their head on his shoulder. Their hand was still between their legs, moving slower now but still eliciting little jerks and shudders. "That was so nice. I can go again, if you don't mind?" they asked, like they needed his permission to keep going.

"Sure," he said.

Stell made an appreciative moaning sound and snuggled in closer to him. Their urgency was gone, something warm and comfortable taking its place. Gone were the dramatic reactions to Nick's touch, they made dreamy little sounds as he stroked them. Made it a hell of a lot easier on Nick.

"Tell me a fantasy?" Stell requested.

"Um?" Nick's mind went unhelpfully blank.

"You know, a fantasy. A sexy thought you like to have. Doesn't have to be anything fancy, so long as it suits your fancy."

"Well..." Nick made a show of pondering deeply. "At the moment I'm getting some great mileage out of the one where my partner comes out of the washroom stark nekkid and—"

Stell bit his shoulder, laughing. "Come on," they coaxed. "What really gets Nick Valentine's coolant pumping?"

Nick didn't usually let himself fantasize. Not in this life. He had to dig back far, well before his current incarnation, to find one. "I was a man of simple tastes," he said. "It was always a favorite if I could convince a dame to sit on my face before she sat on my lap." He licked his lips, the memory suddenly bright and clear in his mind. "Not many turned me down, come to think of it."

"I bet not," Stell breathed. "What about it did you like?"

Impossible to pick just one thing, it was the entire experience. "The taste of her, always a little different. The softness, so smooth and creamy against my tongue. Feeling how _wet_ she was getting, knowing how good that was going to feel when I was in her. Knowing it was making a mess of me, of us _both_ , when I could feel her running down my cheek and chin, knowing I was making her feel that good. The feel of her thighs around my head, when they were shaking. The sounds she made when she came on my tongue."

Nick's throat burned, his body arching at the thought, half a memory. And what went after, when he lay her down and put her legs over his shoulders to sink into her. He didn't fantasize like this. It made him want too much, the sense memories of his old body throwing into stark contrast the differences between it and his current body.

"Fuck, that's hot," Stell moaned, hand moving faster again. At least he wasn't the only one getting off on his old favorites. "I could do that, couldn't I? Sit on your face and let you suck me off." Nick's body squirmed at the thought. Stell rolled up onto him a bit, nuzzling at his neck before they pressed a sucking kiss to the hollow of his throat. "Any other fantasies?" they asked.

At the moment Nick couldn't think of anything they could request he wouldn't try to give them, and the old fantasies that had awakened with the mention of them with a dick came to the forefront of his mind. "I told you... I was too chickenshit to do anything about being bi?" Nick asked, not really a question that needed answering. "But I would imagine. I would picture it, being in a locker room, or a gym shower, with another guy." Often with more than one guy, but Stell didn't need to know that. "He wouldn't ask. Just grab me, and take what he wanted." Not being asked meant it wasn't his choice, wasn't his _fault_. All he could do was enjoy it. "His body hard and strong against me, his hands all over me, his dick stiffening up against my back. His hands in my hair, pulling it as he pushed me against a wall. Or we'd wrestle, beard burn on my skin as we fought to get each other off."

It had always been a favorite fantasy, something he'd never been brave enough to seek and had contented himself with not having. He could imagine getting overpowered and used and pleasured, but in real life he'd been too big and butch for anyone to think they could, and he'd never frequented the kind of gyms where men would make passes at each other. He'd been tempted, when not in a relationship, but he'd never given it a try.

"Oh fuck," Stell groaned, and bit down on his pec as they came a second time. This one lasted longer, shuddering waves passing through their body, gradually slowing.

Their eyes were glowing when they sat back on their haunches, weight coming to rest on his lap. There was a little sweat on their forehead and on their neck, trailing down their chest. Nick grabbed them by the back of the neck and pulled them down as he pulled himself up, licking that sweat from their slender neck. The taste of salt and skin burst on his tongue, and he moaned as he rutted up against them.

"God, Stell, I _want—_ " It came out a rough growl, and he could feel the shudder travel all the way down their body in response.

"Yeah," they gasped. "Yeah, come on. You're so hot, Nick, my god." They pushed down into his thrust, and he grabbed their hip to guide them as they rose and fell together. He bit at their collarbone, rubbed his face against all the soft sweat-dewed skin he could reach. Their hands were on his body, tough and strong, grabbing and holding, blunt nails digging in to his chest, and rubbing at the back of his neck, almost overwhelmingly sensitive. They were so close, bodies moving together in concert, all of Stell on all of him, and it was almost. _Almost_. So close.

Until he made the mistake of looking down at their bodies. Stell looked amazing, but they weren't grinding on _Nick_. They were all up on a grey plastic mannequin, torn up and stitched and glued back together. It wasn't _his body_ , but Nick was stuck inside it with no way out.

"No." Nick planted his hand in the middle of Stell's chest, pushing away at them. He didn't have a gorge to rise, when the wrongness was sickening. "No. No." Stell met his eye, unmoving for a tiny horrible instant, before what they seemed to see in his face sent them scrambling back. Nick pushed himself to the other end of the bed, like he could run away from the very chasis he was installed in. He grabbed the loose edges of his shirt and closed them around his torso tight. Like blocking the sight of his body was going to make it anything but the entirely wrong shape.

There was a wet spot from Stell's groin on the front of his pants, where he'd been grinding against them. For a moment he'd forgotten. He'd really thought he could have sexual pleasure, of all the ridiculous things.

Nick closed his eyes, turning his face away from himself. There was nothing he could do. There was _nothing_ he could do about it. He couldn't escape the body he was in, no matter how wrong it was. And it was all wrong, every part of it.

"I'm sorry," Stell's voice was quiet, but tight with tension. "Here's your trenchcoat? If you want?" There was a rustling of fabric, and it brushed against his leg. Nick let go of his shirt with one hand to dig into it's pockets, coming up quickly with his cigarettes and matches. Thank the powers that be for those, for a ritual that stayed the same no matter what. For the familiar flavor of smoke, calming in it's unchanged baseline.

Nick focused on the cherry-red ember, on the smooth draw of smoke, and the slow exhale. It wasn't ok. Nothing was ok, but he could push all the horror back where it belonged by the time he finished the first cigarette. He fished out another, lighting it from the end of butt of the first, and finally glanced toward his bed companion.

Stell's hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists on their knees, jaw tensed to cracking as they looked at him. They were also still completely naked, and the sight of their bare body brought back to mind it against his, and Nick had to look quickly away. He didn't have tears to cry, when everything was too raw, too hard to bear.

"I'll get dressed." Stell stood quickly and disappeared into the agency's main room, where they'd left their pack.

Nick smoked his cigarette, and when it was done he was calm enough to run a few diagnostics. This is what he was. A machine. Reviewing this debug software, seeing the familiar error messages from things that there was no fixing, was calming. He was what he was, and all he could do was accept that. When he was done with that, he buttoned up his shirt, and put his trenchcoat on over it. It wasn't the armored one Stell had gifted him, but it sure felt like armor. He could hide inside it, that was certain. The synth detective was a good identity to have.

He lit up a third cigarette, and Stell came back. They were in their Minuteman outfit, the worn shirt and pants showing the lines from their armor. They had his hat, with they handed him from a cautious distance, and one of the blankets from their bedroll.

"I can't make you tea, or cookies, or anything that I'd usually do?" Stell bit their lip, taking a deep breath before they continued. "But would a cozy blanket to wrap up in help?"

They looked scared. They were putting on a good front, just a little stiff, but they looked afraid. Nick might not have been able to tell if they were wearing their goggles and bandanna, but they weren't. So that made two of them, and Nick couldn't quite bear to see that look on their face.

"I'll take the blanket," Nick accepted. "Especially if it comes with a partner to cuddle."

Stell exhaled and some of the stiffness left them. They settled in tentatively at his side, and Nick helped wrap the blanket around them both. He blew his smoke away from Stell as much as he could, taking his time with the cigarette.

"I'm sorry," Stell said again. "I got carried away."

"Well that makes two of us," Nick said. "It was... _beyond_ good, until it wasn't."

"What went wrong?" Stell asked, voice small. "I don't want to do that to you, Nick. Never again."

Nick lit himself a fourth cigarette. He was really going for the chainsmoker title this evening, but he couldn't find it in him to care, beyond the distressing fact that his pack was running low. He frowned at the pack, and Stell shifted at his side to hand him another. Not his favorite brand, but he'd take it.

"I don't... fantasize," Nick finally answered. "I get all these sense memories, of the body I haven't got anymore. And you, on me... I could just about feel it too. Looking down and seeing what I've got now was quite the jolt."

"God, I'm sorry," Stell apologized again.

"It's—" Nick started, the 'it's fine' he wanted to say getting stuck in his throat. It wasn't fine, much as he wanted to comfort Stell. "It is what it is," he settled on. "No helping it." He took a long drag of his cigarette, and then another, and then his mouth felt like it wanted to talk. "The original Nick was..." he broke off, shaking his head. Oh, he could try and separate it out, but at the end of the day everything he was was Nick Valentine. " _I was_ a big man. This lithe figure of mine isn't _mine_. High School football gave me bulk, which sadly didn't stay in place once I graduated. And once I made detective, well, stakeouts aren't exactly known to be kind to the waistline. Had a favorite sandwich shop in every neighborhood, and it showed. So this body? It's nothing I ever was, or wanted to be. You had me feeling like I was before, and looking down to see this instead?" Nick trailed off, shaking his head.

"I understand," Stell said, rubbing their cheek against his shoulder briefly. Maybe they even did.

Nick hadn't actually told anyone before. Seemed pointless to complain about something that couldn't be changed, or about having a more fashionable silhouette than he'd ever had in life. Stell just accepted it, though. It was what it was, and they took it in stride. Maybe that did help, at least a little.

"Thanks for listening," he said.

Stell rocked against his side, affectionate bumping against him. "That's what partners are for."

The heart Nick didn't have swelled up with affection. "Best damn partner an old synth could ask for." He ground his cigarette out in the ashtray and carefully cupped Stell's face in his hand. He kissed them, chastely, their unbruised eyelid before their black eye, and then very softly on their bottom lip.

Stell didn't say anything, but they were smiling again, and seeing that expression on their face, it seemed a lot more likely that everything was going to be all right.


	8. one hell of a 'goodbye'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stell and Nick give sex one more try, as Stell prepares to breach the Institute itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the long wait for this chapter! I've got some very good and exciting (but time-consuming) things going on, which you can find out about on my author blog:  
> [ http://ts-porter.tumblr.com](http://ts-porter.tumblr.com)  
> <3  
> TS

Stell knew how to keep secrets, that was certain. The skill probably came from their military training, keeping classified information safe. Nick was grateful for what little they did feel comfortable sharing with him about the Institute and the Railroad, though even _that_ was only shared when they were out in the Glowing Sea and far from any prying ears at all. Stell took a rad-x, took off their power armor helmet, and whispered all they could to Nick.

The Railroad had given Stell a stronger lead, a fuller understanding of what the Institute was capable of, what they were up against, and their resolve was unchanged in the face of it. They went back to Virgil for more information—awkwardly-drawn blueprints for a teleporter—and shared a cookbook of commonwealth recipes in exchange. Virgil seemed pretty excited about the prospect of eating more than charred creatures, and for the company. Stell nodded knowledgeably over the test crops Virgil had set up in his entrance cave, offering him advice and encouragement. Stell left him with a renewed promise to get the supermutant-reversal serum and a casual hug around his waist that left the poor man too flustered for words. Nick was diplomatic enough not to laugh.

Already knowing the way, they managed the trip into the Glowing Sea and back out in a single day, instead of having to break it into two.

Stell took a quick trip to the Railroad with the blueprints, then came back for Nick as they proceeded with their plans. From a step removed, it probably looked like Stell was behaving exactly the same as usual. They drifted through the Commonwealth, checking on their settlements and gathering scrap and getting to know all the people who lived in them. They stopped in Sanctuary for some well-deserved rest, and let their own hand holding his be the first sensation Nick experienced with his newly refurbished right hand.

They spent time with Preston, just to be close to him and chat about the future of the Minutemen and the Commonwealth. They took Strong deathclaw hunting, presumably just for the hell of it, and they both came back blood-spattered and laughing and weighed down with enough meat to feed half a dozen settlements. They spent a day with Piper, gossiping and helping little Nat with her homework, and gave her a few pipes and a stock of deliciously scented pipe tobacco for her to share with Ellie.

They passed it all off as just being themself, spending time like normal, but Nick wasn't the only one who could tell a goodbye trip when he saw one. Piper pulled him aside, more than half threatening him as she demanded he watch Stell's back and not let _anything_ happen to them. The only answer he could give her was that there were some places even he couldn't follow Stell.

Stell worked on a few cases with Nick, too, helping him put all the pieces together and keeping him safe as they hunted down clues—and gathered a few very specific pieces of salvage. They cleared out a new settlement—the old Starlight Drive-In—cleared it out and cleaned it up, but they didn't set it up for settlers. They brought in a couple settlement provisioners, unloaded a huge pile of supplies, and sent them away again. They built enough turrets and guard towers to turn the place into a fortress, and a huge bank of generators instead of the wind turbines they usually preferred, and only then did they bring in anyone else.

Nick didn't recognize the people, which was surprising in its own way. There was a twitchy technician who seemed to be a bit more specialized than Sturges who went by Tinker Tom, and a downright statuesque woman who carried a big minigun like it was nothing and went by the entirely appropriate moniker of Glory. She could easily have passed for human, but Glory made no secret of the fact that she was a synth. Like she was daring the world to make something of it. Nick could respect that.

Both Glory and Tinker Tom seemed to like Stell, and Stell obviously liked them both as well. They were decent company, but understandably reticent around Nick. Took him a while to realize it wasn't because he was a synth, that fact counted in his _favor_ for once, but because he wasn't initiated into the Railroad.

The Railroad lived or died by secrecy. Nick couldn't hold it against them. He helped out where he could, and gave them breathing room when they needed to talk shop. Stell helped build the teleporter when they could, but once it got down to the finicky bits there wasn't much they could do to help. Tinker Tom was dancing and humming to himself as he worked, clearly thrilled, and Glory had climbed up to the top of the old silver screen with her minigun and a rocket launcher to keep watch, so Nick and Stell were on their own for a few hours until the teleporter would be ready.

Stell cleaned their guns and checked over their equipment one last time, then lay down for a 'nap' on a bed they'd set up in the old staff room with Nick nearby to keep them company. What they were doing wasn't napping by any definition Nick knew, though. The fidgeting, their hands picking at the threadbare blankets or tapping at their thighs, precluded sleep. They were jittery, nearly as wired as Tinker Tom, and no wonder considering the enormity of what they were undertaking.

"Anything I can do to help?" Nick asked. Stell's face jerked toward him, goggled eyes fixed on him, and Nick clarified when it seemed there was no answer forthcoming. "Unless I'm mistaken, you're a million miles from a nap. Anything I can do to help you calm down?"

"No," Stell answered quickly, settling themself as stiff and still as a board on the bed. That lasted only thirty seconds before they sighed heavily. "Well... maybe? Cuddle me?" they asked, scooching over to one side of the bed, eyebrows rising hopefully.

Nick didn't need to be asked twice. Stell grabbed on tight as soon as he joined them. It took them some time to get their limbs and the pillow and blanket all arranged to comfort. Stell lay their head on Nick's chest, listening to his fans and pumps in lieu of a heart and lungs. They were still tense, though. Their fingers jittered, tapping at Nick's hollow chest and picking at loose threads in his trench coat. Nick rubbed up and down their back, trying to loosen the tight muscles. It seemed to help, to some extent, but not nearly as much as he would have liked. Stell didn't seem any more likely to sleep, but at least they were a little less tense.

When Stell removed their goggles and bandanna the better to kiss his jaw, and the corner of his mouth, Nick answered them eagerly. Kissing Stell was always good. They both kept it slow and gentle, a leisurely slide of lips and tongues, and it was not Stell's fault that it made Nick _want_ so badly. They hadn't shared anything more than clothed cuddling and kissing since their one and only disastrous attempt at sex, but Nick wanted to try again as much as he knew it was a bad idea. He wanted their bare skin against his whenever they were cuddling, wanted to taste the salt of their skin and feel them shake against him in orgasm.

"Say, do you want..." Nick started, before he cut himself off with a shake of his head. It wasn't fair to ask for what he couldn't actually handle. There was a reason he hadn't brought it up again.

"Want what?" Stell asked, long lean body shifting all along his. He suspected them of knowing how that got his pumps racing, and having a good idea what he'd almost asked.

"To fool around," Nick confirmed. "But that didn't exactly end well, last time. Not a calming experience for either of us."

"Well, yeah," Stell said, grinning down on him. They kissed him, sweet and chaste. "It is worth considering that we wouldn't make the same mistakes twice. We might fail again, but at least we'll be failing in new and interesting ways! I've got _all kinds_ of new ideas to test, if you're ready to try again."

The warmth in their eyes and the excitement in their expression made the heart Nick didn't have lurch in his chest. Stell wanted to try again, and Nick was so weak to what they wanted. It was enough to tip the scales.

"All right then." He did want to, so much. "For the sake of science."

Stell made an absolutely undignified little squeal—what would the Commonwealth think of that, General of the Minutemen and most driven person in the entire blasted region being so damn adorable—and kissed Nick again. It certainly wasn't chaste, and he groaned against their lips.

"The first idea I had," Stell started, and then interrupted themself with another kiss. "Was a blindfold. _Seeing_ was the problem last time, right? And I don't want you to take off anything except maybe your trenchcoat. Sound good?"

"Huh," Nick considered. That wasn't quite how he'd been picturing it. "I'm fairly certain I could go down on you without a blindfold," he suggested. "Could make things a mite more difficult, actually, not to be able to see what I'm doing."

Stell flushed, biting their bottom lip. Nick could feel their stomach muscles tense against him. Everything he could sense told him Stell was into the idea, but they shook their head. "I wasn't going to try that, uh, for a long time, if ever? Oral sex seems to be tied up in a lot of sense memories for you and maybe it would be best to focus you in your current body instead of bringing back the old memories? That didn't go well last time."

That seemed unfair, and Nick almost protested, but it was true. Even thinking about it had caused a complete breakdown last time. His favorite wasn't an option, at least not any time soon. In the interest of failing in new ways instead of repeating the same old mistakes, Stell's way was probably best.

"All right. Your way it is," Nick agreed, and then quieter. "I trust you."

Stell rubbed noses with him, affectionate, then rolled over him to go to their pack. They came up with a freshly laundered red bandanna, which they folded into a wide blindfold. "Sit on the edge of the bed?" they suggested, holding the blindfold out to him. Nick sat up, remembered to remove his trenchcoat, and sat obediently on the edge of the bed. He hoped he looked calm, but his fans were whirring double-time as Stell stepped in close to tie the blindfold around his head. Nick rested his good left hand on their hip, and then with a small thrill that he _could_ now, his good right hand on their other hip.

The blindfold was a decent one. Nick could make out a tiny bit of light in the gap by his nose, but not enough for any details, and closed his eyes. He had to rely on the rest of his senses, now.

Stell's fingers traced gentle lines along the edges of the blindfold, checking it. "This feel ok?" they asked.

"The most comfortable blindfold I've ever worn," Nick confirmed.

Stell leaned down, warm breath brushing the top of his head before their lips landed in a small kiss. "The second thing I want is for you to promise to tell me when you _start_ getting uncomfortable, instead of waiting for it to be overwhelming. Ok?" they requested.

Nick squeezed gently at Stell's hips, stroking down and then up under their shirt to the warmth of their bare skin. He wanted this, and shook his head slightly. "I shouldn't be so damn fragile I can't even—"

"But you are," Stell interrupted, strong hands squeezing his shoulders. "Should and shouldn't will make you crazy. You can only be where you _are_. So can you promise to tell me when you get uncomfortable, instead of trying to push to where you think your comfort zone _should_ be?"

It was harder than it should be, but Nick nodded. "I'll try, darl, but I can't say it's my strong suit."

"Thank you," Stell said, like they were the one being coddled here. "Trying's all I can ask. Let me go for a sec, I need to get my equipment."

Equipment? "Well, that's not worrying in the slightest," Nick drawled, letting them go.

Stell laughed. Their footsteps moved toward their pack, and the clink of buckles and shifting of material let him know they were rummaging around in it. "Nothing too adventurous, I promise. Do you want the play by play, or can I make it a surprise?"

There was temptation both ways, but the joy of anticipation won out. "You know I can't resist a good mystery." Nick listened hard, hands folded in his lap as he waited. It sounded like Stell had found what they wanted in their pack, and was getting undressed. Or maybe changing clothes? Or maybe they were repacking their pack. There was the clink of more buckles, and then Stell was coming back toward him.

"Hands in your lap like that is good, to start," Stell said. "Don't want you to ruin the surprise early. All right?"

"Sure," Nick allowed, and Stell tipped his chin up to kiss him, soft and sweet. He laced his fingers together to keep from reaching for them when they pulled back.

"So," Stell started. The bed creaked, mattress shifting as they climbed onto it beside him. "I've noticed a few things about your particular anatomy. Sensitive spots, different from what you had as a human. But not _so_ different from a human." Stell's voice dropped as they spoke, until they were whispering against the back of his ear, and Nick's back arched in a faint shiver. Stell chuckled, low and breathy, to much the same result. "Like that," Stell whispered. Their lips brushed against the raised curve of his ear with warm little kisses. It felt nice, but nothing too intense.

"Hmm," Stell pondered. "Whispers do more than kisses, huh?"

"Seems like," Nick agreed.

"That's fine," Stell whispered. The bed shifted as they knee-walked behind him, their breath brushed his other ear. "I've got high hopes for this next one. Right here." Their fingers brushed the nape of Nick's neck, and then pressed in, rubbing circles like they were giving him a massage. He shuddered, a wave of sensation rolling down his whole body.

Nicks groan was more than half surprise. Sure, Stell had touched him there before, and he'd felt good, but that had never been the _only_ point of contact. He leaned back into it, instinctively, hands leaving his lap to brace himself on the bed instead.

"Feel good?" Stell murmured, shivery soft into his ear.

"Better than just good." Nick dropped his head forward, baring the back of his neck to them completely, and the feeling intensified. "Damned if I know why."

"It's a central conduit." Stell drummed their fingertips in a line down his neck, making him jolt with little electrical twinges. "All your sensory input, from your whole body, wired through this point. Closest thing you've got to increased nerve density, in this body. Direct stimulation, and you've got a brand new erogenous zone. Pretty sweet, right?"

"Mhm." Nick didn't seem to have the processing power to come up with a more eloquent response.

"If I'm right, there should be a couple more nerve junctions accessible from the outside. Try under your arm?" Stell murmured. Their spare hand stroked up his side, and something briefly bumped his back before Stell shifted position. Nick moaned, anticipating an increase of this strange pleasure, but Stell's hand had paused somewhere shy of his armpit. "May I? Nick?" they asked, no longer a whisper, and Nick realized there had been a question he was supposed to answer.

"Yes!"

Stell made a happy sound. They pressed a kiss to his ear, rubbing the back of his neck with a slow and firm up and down as their strong fingertips began carefully exploring his left underarm. It didn't feel like much at first, and this body had never been ticklish, but then Stell made a little 'ah' of understanding and pressed up hard with a knuckle right into the joint.

 _Something_ sent a burst through Nick's body, and his whole body jerked, hard enough that Stell came out of contact with him entirely. "Don't stop!" he begged, before Stell could get the second syllable of 'sorry' out. "Just... go easy."

"Right, yeah," Stell agreed, hands on him again. They kissed his neck and began rubbing it again, the rest of their body held an unfortunate distance away from him. Their fingers under his armpit were gentler this time, as they pressed in toward the joint. Nick groaned, low and longer than he could have if he had to breathe.

His systems were running overtime, the overload of sensory input throwing out an avalanche of errors that were in turn drowned out under more input. His fans were on high gear, coolant pumps running full tilt to keep up with the processing heat. He was burning up, body thrumming, utterly alive and fully inhabiting his synthetic body.

"What does it feel like?" Stell murmured.

"Everywhere." Nick was surprised he could spare the processing power for words. "Every _thing_. Heat. So good." Then, with a heroic effort. "Almost like sex."

"Says who it's not?" Stell breathed, teeth nipping dangerously against the back of his ear. "We're both getting off on it, aren't we?"

"Are you?" Nick asked, breaking off with a whine as Stell's fingertips dug in deeper under his arm. It felt good this time, now that it wasn't so sudden.

"Oh, Nick. You have no idea." Stell groaned. "The things it does to me, seeing you like this." They shifted behind him, pressing up against his back. Heat, muscles and softness and a hard.... Nick's vocal processors seized, body stiffening as he realized what he was feeling. His synthetic mind had time to identify all possibilities, deduce the only likely one, and fully embrace it, in the brief moment before Stell spoke again. "You're getting me so hard, Nick, you feel that? All for you."

"Stell!" Nick's voice was strangled, desperate.

"Is this all right?" Stell eased off. "You're still with me? It's not too much like—"

Nick interrupted them by the simple expedient of scooting backward, back pressed against their strap-on dick again, and Stell broke off with a gasp and a little thrust of their hips. As many times as Nick had imagined it, he'd never really felt someone hard against him. "This is an entirely novel scenario, darl," he managed. "And I'd like it to continue."

"Great!" Stell kissed his ear, hand stroking down from his armpit, toward his lower back below the strap-on. "There should be another nerve junction somewhere down here?"

"All right," Nick agreed. Maybe not the most grammatically correct answer, but it worked to keep Stell going. They rutted against him, long slow thrusts with their hips as they pressed and prodded, searching for the next erogenous zone. Their other hand never stopped rubbing at the back of his neck. Stell had coordination, he'd give them that.

Nick waited for the pleasure, for their clever fingers to find a nerve junction he'd never thought to find himself, but after about a minute the chances of that dwindled to zero, and he had to speak up. "Far be it from me to complain about getting my ass groped, but it doesn't seem like you're finding anything back there."

Stell laughed, gave his scrawny ass a squeeze, and stopped poking at it. "Yeah, must be wired in the front. May I?"

"Be my guest."

Stell stopped rubbing his neck for a moment, the loss of sensation striking Nick as a grave injustice, then resumed with their left hand instead. They shook behind him—shaking their right arm out?—and then they pulled him close and tight against them and started exploring between his legs.

It was... vaguely wrong. Almost on the edge of sickening. They'd never actually touched him there, where nothing that should be there was. Stell had made him promise to tell them when he started to get uncomfortable, but their fingers on the back of his neck felt so good, and their hard dick and the quickening little thrusts against his back felt good, and their breath, panting hot against his ear felt good. He didn't want to lose any of that.

He opened his mouth anyway, about to tell them to stop, when they found the nerve junction. The spot was more on the front of his hip than between his legs, which helped, and the dizzying wave of sensation blanked out any desire other than _more_. His vocal processors glitched on the words he'd been about to say, coming out with something grinding and garbled.

"Whoa!" Stell's hand jerked back. Nick grabbed it, groping blindfolded until he found it, and dragged it back into place.

"Keep going." It was a demand, an absolute _need_ , and Stell laughed.

"Just a sec." Stell rubbed far too lightly at Nick's hip, a teasing whisper when he knew it could be a symphony, and stopped massaging his neck in favor of adjusting something at their hips. There was a buzz, and they moaned raggedly. Their dick was faintly vibrating when they pressed it against his back again. They were shaking. The vibrator was obviously for their pleasure rather than Nick's, and that thought alone sent another wave of arousal through him.

Stell's hand closed around his neck, a firm grip that would have been worrying if Nick had to breathe, but he didn't. He was a synth, so there was no fear, just the appreciation of how their thumb was perfectly placed to press deep and firm at the base of his neck. All he had to do was _feel_ the sensations that poured through his robotic body. Stell rubbed the nerve junction at the front of his hip, and Nick's entire sense of equilibrium failed him. He was spinning, unmoored from physical reality. Stell's body, clinging close to his, was the only anchor that existed.

They thrust against his back with their vibrating dick, gasping breathlessly. They shifted the hand on Nick's front, spanning his groin, and suddenly they were massaging nerve junctions on the front of both hips.

Nick's entire body seized, a thousand error messages drowned beneath an ocean of pleasure. His vocal processors squealed static, like a radio scrolling through stations. He was falling, spiraling, and Stell's body was bucking against his back as they cried out in the sharp gasps of orgasm.

He didn't know how long it lasted, how long his body could have withstood the onslaught without some sort of catastrophic malfunction, but eventually Stell had to stop. They were laughing, hiccuping and breathless as they released him and fumbled behind him to make their dick stop vibrating.

"Hey." Their voice was gentle as they carefully lifted Nick's twitching body, easing him back to lay on the bed. "All right there, Nick? Didn't break you?"

Nick _needed_ to see Stell. He could not bear to be blindfolded even an instant longer. It took him a few milliseconds longer than usual—a subjective eon—to make his arms respond so he could rip off the blindfold.

The light was bright, almost blinding, and then he focused and there they were. His partner. Stell, with their burnt cheekbones and bandanna-and-goggles tan lines, with their dyed-black hair showing just a hint of brown roots, with their endlessly deep brown eyes looking into his. There was nothing Nick could do but cradle their beloved face between his hands and lean up to kiss them.

"You gave me..." his voice seized again. If he could cry, he might be. He wrapped his arms around them, pulling Stell down to lay on top of him, heedless of their still-hard dick. "I didn't think I _could_."

Stell huffed a relieved laugh. "Let me get out of this... It's getting uncomfortable." They eased back a ways to start undoing buckles, what Nick could now see was a sturdy black nylon harness holding a swirled yellow-and-green dildo with some interesting bumps on it. There was a joke about supermutant dicks somewhere in there, but Nick didn't have the inclination to search it out just at the moment. Stell squirmed out of the harness and tossed it toward their pack, and flopped back down to hold him.

Neither of them seemed to have any more words. Stell was soft and warm in his arms, making small contented sounds as he touched them, their clever fingers gently touching him in turn. Nick hadn't thought he'd ever have an afterglow to bask in again, as his body sorted itself out and the error messages were cleared away and his pumps and fans returned to baseline.

"You've given me so much," he finally said, when his resynced chronometer indicated that Stell's 'naptime' was over and they were going to have to get up and go.

"My pleasure," Stell assured him, kissing the corner of his jaw. "Really." They glanced toward the clock they'd set up, and sighed, but did get up to begin dressing themself. "Even if... hmm. No matter what, I'm glad I was able to give you that much."

They were going directly into the stronghold of the most powerful enemy the Commonwealth had, alone, using completely untested technology. There was no guarantee they'd survive the attempt, and Stell was more than smart enough to know that.

Nick was a pragmatist at the best of times, but for this, he couldn't be. He wasn't capable of giving himself any distance from it. He stood from the bed, touching Stell's shoulder until they straightened from their pack, and wrapping both arms around them tight. He pressed his forehead against theirs, just shy of how hard his sensors estimated would be painful.

"Don't... don't let it be the only thing," he begged. "I'm counting on a lot more time to explore with you."

Stell's breath hitched. They sniffled slightly, and turned their face away to rub their eyes with the back of their hand. They looked scared, when they looked back at him. Their attempt at a smile only deepened the wrinkles around their eyes and mouth. "I'll try. You know I won't go gentle into that good night, but I have to do this Nick. I can't give up."

"I know." He did. They wouldn't be the Stell he loved, the Commonwealth's best hope, if they knew when to quit. He just happened to have a vested interest in their continued survival.

"I'll try," Stell promised again. They pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, then stepped away from him to finish getting dressed. Dented combat armor over ballistic-weave reinforced clothes, a bandanna and goggles, all the guns they could carry, and they went from the soft lover he'd held in his arms into the legend who'd mastered everything the Commonwealth had thrown at them.

They'd survived everything so far, risen above it with violence and kindness in equal measure, but _no one_ came back from the Institute.

Nick followed Stell out of the little room, to find Glory and Tinker Tom waiting. Tinker Tom was twitchier than ever, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. He grinned hugely.

"She's ready." Tinker Tom gestured to the huge contraption he'd built—glowing now. "Whenever you're ready."

"Then let's do this." Stell strode to the center, bathed in eerie blue light. Their goggled eyes turned to Nick, one last time. "I'll see you on the other side. Hit it."

Tinker Tom crowed. The light intensified, hot and blinding beneath the electrical arcs.

And Stell was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one chapter left!
> 
> My playlist for writing this fic can be found here:  
> <https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLlgmvLRLn5IBsynvL7vylOjKck0reudHF>
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your comments!


	9. Am I wrong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full Circle.

Nick heard the commotion, before he knew it was about Stell. Should have realized sooner, when it was Piper starting a very loud argument with a couple of the DC Guards to one side of the agency, and Nat starting some sort of very energetic game with some other children to the other. Nick shared an exasperated look with Ellie just a moment before Stell stepped through the door.

"Hey, Ellie! Nick!" There was something wrong with Stell's voice, lightness at odds with the stiffness of their body. It was a performance of a casual greeting, instead of a real one, and all the horror stories of people replaced by synths flashed through Nick's mind.

He'd been trying so hard not to think of those.

"Working hard, Ellie?" Stell bumped their hip against her desk, catching themself with a hand Nick could see was holding a tattered slip of paper. It was decent cover for dropping it in front of Ellie, though Stell wasn't the best of actors. Someone who didn't know them so well probably wouldn't have noticed. "Anything good?"

Ellie stiffened, looking at the paper, but she covered it with a bright smile up at Stell. "Oh, just the usual," Ellie answered, like everything was normal. "Nick's been holding off on the tricky ones 'till you got back."

"Aww," Stell cooed, throwing a goggled glance toward him. Again, a performance. "Hey, you mind clearing out for a bit? I think Nick and I need to _talk shop_." They wagged their eyebrows, awkwardly, almost like they were the mechanical one in the relationship.

Ellie giggled, though she could tell something was wrong just like Nick could. "Of course. I'll be just outside once the coast is clear." She stood quickly, rested her hand on Stell's shoulder for just a moment with a searching look at their hidden face, and saw herself out with a too-cheerful, "You two have fun!"

"What..?" Nick started, standing, but Stell was shaking their head hard as they stepped quickly over to him. They hugged him, hard enough for some of his sensors to send warning pings.

"White noise," Stell breathed, all but inaudible against his ear. Outside, Piper's argument seemed to have gathered an audience, and it sounded like Ellie had gotten in one of her endless sniping-matches with Myrna about synths.

Sound cover. Well, Nick knew how to provide that. He set one radio to Diamond City Radio, and another to The Silver Shroud. Stell turned both radios up, tuned their pipboy to one of the settlement recruitment beacons, and removed it entirely to place it directly between the two other radios. Like they didn't trust it. Stell grabbed Nick by the hand and all but dragged him into his bedroom.

Only there, out of sight and with a truly overkill amount of sound cover, did Stell collapse. They crumpled onto his bed, shoulders heaving as they buried their face in their hands—goggles pushed up and out of the way.

Nick immediately sat beside them, arms wrapped tight around them. He rocked them gently back and forth, and Stell turned to hide their face against his armored trenchcoat. Muffling their sobs. He might not know what had gone wrong, but Nick was glad he could be here for Stell. That they trusted _him_ to be the one they came to.

Stell's tears were violent, for all they were nearly inaudible, but they didn't last long. Stell's eyes were red-rimmed when they finally leaned back from him and wiped at them with their sleeve.

"That bad?" he asked, the quietest whisper they'd be able to hear.

Stell shook their head, sniffling and then removing their bandanna to blow their nose on it and dropping it on the floor. They lay their head on his shoulder, breath still hitching slightly. "Worse," they murmured, so quiet nobody but him would have been able to hear it even if they hadn't involved all their friends to make a ruckus. "They took my Sean's DNA and made _slaves_." Stell's voice broke on another sob, and their eyes were wet when they pushed their face briefly against Nick's neck. "They took my baby, and now he's a... a horrible old man. They made synth slaves from my Nate's DNA and they don't even think it's wrong."

"Stell..." Nick's mind spun. He'd never imagined.

"I'm going to burn it down." Stell's voice, though still a whisper, had gone as hard as steel. "I'm going to destroy everything they've built, and free the synths. I'm going to tear it down around their ears. I'm going to kill them all."

"Vengeance," Nick whispered back.

Stell leaned back, searching his face with eyes lined and puffy. "Am I wrong?" they asked.

He'd asked them the same, hadn't he, when he was going after Eddie Winter. He'd been too close to the case, and he'd trusted their judgment above his own. And now Stell needed that reassurance. Needed to know that their instincts weren't being clouded.

Even though they were so hurt, so angry, Nick still trusted their judgment. Slaves needed to be freed, that much was obvious to anyone with a working moral compass. Slavers needed to be stopped. And considering the harm and suffering the Institute had inflicted upon the Commonwealth for so long, taking them down would be a benefit to everyone. It's just that no one else had ever had the chance to, not until Stell came along.

Nick shook his head and held Stell's face between his hands—gently kissed the salt tears from both of their eyes, and pulled them in close to hold them. "We're partners, aren't we?" he reminded, a whisper against their cheek. "I'm behind you, every step of the way."

 

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peace, Fallout fandom. It's been real.


End file.
